


Love Needs No Holidays

by Evax3, Mis_Shapes



Series: Collaborations - Evax3 and Mis_Shapes [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Holiday (2006) Fusion, Background Relationships, Christmas, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Home exchange, Humor, M/M, Neither is a side pairing, Original Character(s), POV Multiple, Past Character Death, Past Daenerys Targaryen/Daario Naharis, Past Jon Snow/Ygritte, Past Robb Stark/Jeyne Westerling, Single Parent Robb Stark, each pairing could be read on their own, split in equal parts, two stories in one fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:02:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27875765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evax3/pseuds/Evax3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mis_Shapes/pseuds/Mis_Shapes
Summary: Jon can't get over his breakup no matter how hard he tries. Overwhelmed with his family's seasonal cheer, he decides to get away for the holidays.Meanwhile, Theon's just done with all the couples around him and Christmas in general. When he sees Jon's ad for a house swap in the North, he doesn't think twice before responding.Two love stories in one fic set over the holidays, with lots of smiles and copious amounts of glitter. Each could be read separately or alongside the other.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark
Series: Collaborations - Evax3 and Mis_Shapes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2043445
Comments: 76
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> As written in the description - this is two intertwined stories rolled into one - just like the film 'The Holiday'. They can be read together or separately. We would advise at least reading Jon and Theon's initial POVs (Robb's may also be helpful). To make this a bit easier we have inserted buttons to jump you along to the next relevant POV.
> 
> Here's a little demo. The Throbb button is the same but in different colours.
> 
> Everything _should_ make sense with creator style hidden, but it won't look wonderful. Let me know us know if it doesn't work/something doesn't make sense because of it.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

[ ](https://evax3.tumblr.com/post/636597256365211648/love-needs-no-holidays-daenerys-x-jon-theon-x)

* * *

* * *

**JON**

Jon rubs at his temple under the misguided assumption that a little massage might do anything to dissuade the headache he’s fighting from becoming a fully-fledged migraine. It feels like his skull is about to crack open and that itself might come as a relief. Ease the pressure a little. But the truth is that there is little that could successfully counter this sensory overload in progress.

The weight of what has to be Robb’s hand claps down on his shoulder right before his brother collapses onto the sofa beside him. “You need to get your mind off her,” he says, eyes on the kids racing past.

“I --” Jon frowns. “I wasn’t even thinking about that.”

“Then what’s this face about?”

“I just --” He’s been telling himself it's the blinking bright lights, the overpowering smell of the ‘Christmas Cookie’ candle, and the sheer noise of a house full of his siblings and the growing number of nieces and nephews. Sundays have always been a lot, and Christmastime a little extra on top of that, but with his dad gone it’s something more even. He grew up here and yet when faced with the cheer, and despite his step mother’s best efforts, he feels like an outsider. “I’m just not in the mood for this.”

“Hmm,” hums Robb, passing him over a cold bottle of beer. “To be honest with you,” he glances over to where one of Sansa’s girls is laid on the carpet walking a plastic cow through the fibres, checking she’s distracted, “you’re not alone. It’s just that everyone has different ways of coping.”

He takes a swig of the beer. Seems some of the family’s way of coping involves a fuck ton of glitter. This has to be the shittest holiday season in his living memory. He’d thought he’d have an ally through this. Shelter when it got too much. Someone to share a knowing look with over the top of their drinks when needed.

Then she’d fucked off.

Only not quite, she’s still very much there and this continued presence in his life is perhaps what’s driving him to the edge of insanity. Then that’s not even fair; there’s the whole it being a ‘mutual’ agreement thing so maybe he’s not fucked off as much as she has or hasn’t. But, shit, playing one more Christmas gig watching her cajole the crowd into singing along with her and he’s going to… do fuck all. Shit. This needs to stop.

The problem with this whole mutual agreement, part as friends, thing is that you can’t exactly do that and magic away feelings no matter how much you both agree you want different things in life. And he _does_ want different things. He may not be a fully-fledged Stark, he may be taking his time to get there, but he _does_ want the whole family thing; the marriage, the kids, the works, while Ygritte very much doesn’t. It’s something he’s in danger of forgetting when he watches her, microphone in hand, a brilliant smile across her face, and very much in her element. 

“Are you ready?” Jon asks, hoping Robb will distract him from his spiralling thoughts.

“What?” His brother’s eyebrows bunch. “Oh. Christmas… God, no. Are you kidding? I barely remembered to get the advent calendars in time.”

“Do you have any ideas of what they might want?”

“Ugh, no,” Robb looks down as he picks at the label on his bottle, “it changes every couple of minutes.”

“Helpful.”

Robb flashes an apologetic smile that drops a little too quickly. “Get… I don’t know… book vouchers or something. God knows we’ve got enough plastic tat in the house.”

“Oh, yeah,” says Jon, voice dripping with sarcasm, “because I want to be the uncle getting them books for Christmas.”

Well at least that has a genuine smile on his face. “You like books!” Robb laughs.

“Not the point.” With a sigh, Jon fishes out his phone from his pocket to check what all the buzzing is about.

**Messaging:** Ygritte  
  
**Yygritte:** hey, we’re going to the wall if you wanna come?  
  
**Yygritte:** would be nice to see you outside of work  
  


Very nearly does he reply yes. Fuck it. Maybe one of them will have a change of heart. It could be enough, couldn’t it? And seeing the bags under Robb’s eyes is enough to make him dwell on the benefits of keeping things as they are.

**Messaging:** Tormund  
  
**Tormund:** u comin out?  
  
**Tormund:** cmon, it’s xmas  
  
**Tormund:** kiss n make up  
  


For some reason this is the thing to snap him out of it. It is Christmas and he’s here hoping for a miracle, and this idea of some seasonal magic is something he needs to get away from. Leave temptation for a while, and get out of this environment where he’s faced with the weight of familial expectations.

After a couple of glances through google search, he settles on a holiday house swap. That will do. Saves some money on hiring out a place. Now all he has to do is grit his teeth while writing one of those cheesy adverts. 

* * *

* * *

**THEON**

“We’re off now.”

He stretches his neck and then peers over his sunglasses just a bit to see Ariasha watching him with a critical eye. 

_Yes_ , he’s given them a nickname. Because his sister has never done anything by halves and has therefore turned into a two-headed monster ever since they started dating. He's a little embarrassed that the handle is this lame, he really could have done better. But to think that she, of all people, has now also become a _we_ , as apparently everyone around him is at the moment, gives him a terrible headache. 

“Have fun,” Theon says and lies down again, pretending to continue his sunbath.

Arianne's annoyed snort confirms that he’s gotten rid of at least one part of the problem. Asha, however, has never been so easily fobbed off.

“You’re okay on your own over the holidays?”

“Why wouldn't I?”

“Cause it's Christmas?”

“And?”

“You’re all alone? In your early thirties it stops being cool to be single, you know?”

He takes off his sunglasses, albeit a bit more dramatically than is necessary, and raises his brows at her. “ _Thanks_ _mom_ , I’m fine on my own. In fact, I have been home alone _before_ and I don't give a shit about Christmas or any other super gooey holidays.”

Asha smirks at that, “always gotta play safe with a problem child.”

They exchange another look, and finally Theon gives in. “Don't worry about me and enjoy your stupid trip,” he says and means it, even smiles a bit and gets a nod in return before she leaves him be.

Ten minutes later he hears the car rolling and contrary to his tough act from just now, he can't help but feel a tiny bit left behind. 

To distract himself, he reaches for his phone, just about to check his mail when an incoming message catches his attention. It’s a picture, of course it is. Written above it in big letters it says, _Merry Christmas from Patrek and Kyra_. They completely overdid it with the glitter and the ugly Christmas sweaters make him sick. It's meant to be ironic, a joke, but them beaming at each other is real, and he can’t stand the sight even for more than two whole seconds. 

It's always nice when best friends fall in love with each other, you would think. But unfortunately not if you’re the best friend in the team, who is _not_ part of the couple.

 _We are done with the photos_ , Kyra writes, _you want to come over?_

“I'd rather chop off my dick and eat it for lunch,” mumbles Theon and closes the chat again.

He really shouldn't be so bothered by it. Actually, he should be happy for them, the constant pining for the last ten years has been much worse than this. But for whatever reason he can't, just _can’t_. 

If they were the only ones, it might be bearable. But right now, couples are popping out of the ground like weeds and slowly it’s getting annoying. It screws up every flirt he had in the last couple of weeks because whenever he just grins at someone he likes, he can count the seconds before their significant other rushes around the corner and stares at him angrily or tells him to fuck off. 

It’s affecting his sex life and, as if that wasn't enough, now it’s affecting his social life too. He’s just so done with this, with the holidays, with the city, with _everything_.

And it seems as if the god of marketing has heard his cry for help, when, not a minute later, as he finally devotes himself to his overcrowded mailbox, an ad appears that could maybe get him out of his misery.

_Are you looking for a change of scenery? Then you've come to the right place. Take a look at our various offers and create your very own individual home-swap experience._

He clicks on the link without a second thought and is quite surprised that the range of houses they offer are indeed as diverse as promised. From a lonely hut in the mountains to spending the night on a hooker, everything seems possible. And slightly overwhelmed by all the prospects, Theon skims the pictures until suddenly a very special one catches his eye.

[](https://i.imgur.com/Hb9ZeqK.jpg)

****Looking for a Last Minute Home Swap****

 _Available at short notice - one-bed rural ‘chocolate box’ cottage set within the picturesque grounds of the Winterfell Hall Estate and only a 30-minute drive from Winter Town. Featuring a wood-burning stove, this home offers rustic charm and a cosy place to unwind._

 _Please get in touch with Jon for more information._

It seems perfect, it is so different from King's Landing that it almost seems to be on another planet. It’s exactly what he needs, and maybe the signal’s that bad over there that he kills two birds with one stone and gets spared from all the Christmas greetings and other cheesy couple-pics as well.

With a happy grin he opens a new window and starts typing. 

**Messaging:** Jon - cottage  
  
**Theon:** Hello there, I just came across your ad and now I’m very interested in renting your house. Hopefully it’s still available over Christmas, because if so, it would be a real lifesaver.  
  


It takes less than ten seconds until he has a reply.

**Jon:** Definitely still available, as long as a swap works with you? Where are you?  
  
**Theon:** King's Landing, you ever been there?  
  
**Jon:** never, but sounds good. I could do with a change.  
  


Theon crosses his arms behind his head and closes his eyes, tries to imagine himself sitting in this small cottage in front of the fireplace, reading a book ... it takes less than two seconds before he bursts out laughing. Because that is so not gonna happen. He will get drunk as fuck from arrival to departure.

**Theon:** Awesome! So … your place looks like it’s kinda a dead-end village? Because that’s exactly what I need atm.  
  
**Jon:** Yeah, that’s about right. Quiet, aging, rolling countryside - that kind of thing.  
  
**Jon:** Oh, by the way - I have a dog. Ordinarily I’d organise him going to family, but I sort of want to get away quietly. I suppose I could try to get a sitter, but you’d be doing me a huge favour if you’d have him? He’s quiet, very little fuss. You’ll barely know he’s there.  
  


Theon puts the phone aside and ponders for a sec. Would a dog be a problem for his plans? Probably not. And he likes dogs, or at least thinks he likes them. He shrugs, why not.

**Theon:** No problem, dogs love me. But I also got a question... does anyone hot live nearby?  
  


As he looks at the words he wonders if he might come across a little creepy. But it's been too long for his good and this add-on would really be the icing on the cake of this seemingly perfect arrangement.

**Theon:** I'm sorry if it comes across as strange. I've just been stranded for a while.  
  
**Jon:** No one who lives nearby, no.  
  


He tries not to be disappointed. First and foremost he wants to be alone anyway. And besides, it saves him from any exhausting conversations and probably also annoying couples.

**Theon:** All right, I think we have a deal. When is the earliest time for you to swap?  
  
**Jon:** How about tomorrow?  
  


* * *

* * *

**ROBB**

_Where in God’s name is she?_

Sansa had explicitly told him she would be here, and on time he might add. Instead, he’s left waiting outside in the cold having to transfer Lyra from one hip to the other in the vain hope the new position will appease her and she might stop trying to climb down him. If he lets her do that he’s as good as chasing her across the playground already, but he’ll be damned if he’ll go inside just get and throw himself to the mercy of whatever PTA monster is in charge of seating today. That’s a sure-fire way of having nothing but pitying glances thrown at him for the next hour and a half. Last time he’d even gotten a patronising pat on the knee and a ‘hang in there’ from one of the kids’ grandmas.

When she does, at last, appear through the school gates he doesn’t have the heart in him to stay cross with her; not when she’s offering out a travel mug of coffee.

“What took you so long?”

She points down beside her at Myriame wearing a bright pink snowsuit and sensibly holding her hand - like he’d hope her slightly older cousin would be able to do by now, but apparently that's too much to ask for.

“We found holly!” His niece declares brightly with a cheeky grin and brandishes one solitary spikey leaf for him to look upon.

“Very nice! Have you seen this?” He asks Lyra. Bad move. All it results in is having to wrestle her back from trying to get a hold on it herself while holding the hot drink out of harm's way.

“Let's go inside, shall we?” Sansa mercifully begins to lead them inside and towards the hall, attempting to distract her as they go. “I wonder if Ben and Sybelle are dressed up yet. What is Ben being in the play this year, Lyra? Sybbie is a sheep, she’s very excited.”

Lyra shrugs her shoulder and splays out her fingers, palms up.

“Let’s find out!” Robb’s sister has always been the enthusiastic sort when it comes to these things. In her childhood, she’d usually been one of the prominent roles herself. Mary, Gabriel - despite Bran arguing this should by rights go to a boy in her class, the star, all one after the other. Robb has one very vivid memory of her looking angelic in a tinsel halo while Arya ‘ruined her moment’ by bonking Joseph on the head with her shepherd's crook.

Thankfully, they manage to find some rejected seating at the back, considered too far from the action by most, to set up camp and he finally breathes a sigh of relief that his youngest is being occupied with a pencil case full of crayons, a large sheet of paper on the dusty floor, and her cousin.

Robb sits back in the plastic chair and sips the much-needed coffee. “You’re a lifesaver. I don’t know how you do it… I thought I’d have it under control by now. I _should_ have it under control by now.”

“Hey,” Sansa squeezes him on the shoulder, “that’s nonsense. You’re doing brilliantly. I can’t imagine how I’d cope if I didn’t have Pod and it was just me. And especially not with what you’ve been through. Go easy on yourself.” She glances back to watch the kids drawing, or scribbling rather. “Things will get easier.”

“I thought it was supposed to be the ‘terrible twos’,” he says, _not threes too_. “And! I forgot until this morning to find the bloody purple clothes. What? Am I supposed to have an outfit of every colour just ready and waiting?” Sansa snorts at that. “I know, I know, I could’ve just bought some, but I shouldn’t have to.”

“What did you do?”

Bringing his palm to his face, Robb gives a weary sigh. “I had to message the class group chat.” To this, his sister pats him sympathetically with a grimace on her face.

“Believe me though, we’re all very impressed.”

“Who’s we?” Robb asks suspiciously.

“I don’t know… everyone?”

“A likely story,” he mutters when they stand up to clap the kids traipsing up onto the stage, imagining it all to just be down to pity. There’s an immediate costume malfunction when one of the angels’ wings catches on Mary’s headdress.

When he’s finished taking photos for the pair of them, having told Sansa to get down off the chair she’s using to compensate for her shorter height to take her own, he sits back down and waits until they’re singing Little Donkey and they can talk once more without disturbing anyone.

“I know what you need,” she says out of the blue, holding a finger up - the gold glitter over the red catching in the light, “a night off.”

Robb shakes his head dismissively. “Like that’s ever going to happen.” His mum has offered on numerous occasions, they’ve even tried it before, but they never settle there. 

“Go on. I’ll have them tomorrow night. Arya is coming over, she’ll be able to lend us a hand. I bet they'll go down easier if Sybbie and Myriame are there.”

“Won’t they just disturb them?”

“No, they’ll sleep through anything.”

Of course they will.

“What am I supposed to do anyway?”

“I know what I’d do if I were you.” She laughs. “Go out, have some fun. Maybe you’ll even meet someone.”

“It’s too early for that,” argues Robb with a sigh.

“It's been two years, Robb. She’d be happy for you.”

“It’s not just that… it’s,” he gestures between Lyra, now attempting to climb up the pile of gym mats, and Ben with his tinfoil covered cardboard crown threatening to topple off his head. 

She has no answer to this. It's undoubtedly going to complicate matters if he does ever want a love life. And he’s not even sure he does just yet. Then, in a somewhat uncharacteristic turn of events, she shrugs exactly like his daughter had and says, “I didn’t say they have to be _the one_ … if you catch my meaning.”

Robb chuckles. “Oh, I think I catch your meaning. You have too many bad influences in your life,” he accuses her. “I’m going to tell Jon about this.”

“Good,” Sansa laughs, “take him with you. Get him to stop moping for a bit.”

It’s not a terrible idea. Jon still has a life. He’ll know where to go where he’ll be able to get a decent whisky and not feel the need to lean over the barrier to the DJ booth insisting they play something that’s not trash. It’d be nice to have a catch-up and he gets the feeling Jon could do with it too.

**Messaging:** Jon  
  
**Robb:** hey, you up for getting a drink tomorrow?  
  
**Jon:** Shit  
  
**Jon:** Can’t, sorry. I’ve got stuff on.  
  
**Robb:** seriously?!  
  
**Jon:** I’m really really sorry  
  
**Jon:** I imagine Torr and/or Owen will be out?  
  
**Robb:** i’m not going to forget this  
  
**Robb:** you have been warned  
  


* * *

* * *

**DAENERYS**

It was over, wasn’t it? She really thought it was over. But apparently, it was no end but only a break. A short breath of peace. But now they’re back with renewed strength, louder and happier than ever before. Leaving Dany to just one single question ... _why?_ Why by all gods are they back? What the hell are they even doing out there? Why isn't it _over?!_ And then again and again this _damn song!_

She actually likes the holidays, likes the atmosphere, the food, the music. But it's hard to enjoy it when you're sitting home alone and also got neighbors like that, who really _really_ overdo it with the Christmas spirit. And do they really have to do it with _Wham!_?? There are so many beautiful Christmas carols, why does it have to be _Wham!_ … on repeat, for three fucking days?

In her desperation, Dany folds her arms over her head and utters a deep groan. But by this sudden movement, she shakes Drogon awake, who had been rolled up, sleeping on her lap until then. Not in the least annoyed by the music or the lights but only by her unrest, he hisses and glares up with his most furious glance.

“Don't tell me, tell them!” She points at the window where, despite the curtains being drawn, countless flashing bubbles are dancing around, shining over from across the street. And she really wonders how it can be worth it to anybody. The electricity bill will be enormous, that much is certain.

His reply to her is another look of contempt, or perhaps it’s pity. The only thing missing is that he shakes his head before he jumps off her on black paws to seek a quieter place on the couch.

“Sorry!” she calls after him. She really shouldn't talk so much to the cat but maybe talk to some real people instead.

Unfortunately, the only real people in her immediate vicinity are not available. Just everyone seems to be up and away with their loved ones to celebrate the feast together. Except her, because she only has a cat. And a huge amount of work.

Briefly, she considers sending Missandei a message, but that would be intrusive, wouldn't it? She and Greyworm flew to her parents just two days ago, it would be strange to ask her now what she’s doing. It’s obvious what she’s doing, same as everyone else probably. 

Finally, she surrenders and closes her laptop. The deadline is not until late January, it’s okay for her to take at least a few minutes off. So, still in her pyjamas even if it’s already past noon, she drags her feet to the kitchen and makes her fifth coffee of the day. Watches, lost in thought, as the water starts to boil.

When it’s ready, she reaches for the ground coffee, her eyes falling on a photo next to it on the shelf. Her 25th birthday, quite a good one, with many drinks and lots of laughter. She looks happy with her red dress and the broad smile on her lips. If she remembers correctly, Asha took it back then, it was shortly after they’d opened the agency. 

Daario's grip is tight around her waist, his mouth close to her ear, and she's sure he whispered something not quite clean to her, based on her light blushing. He was really a good boyfriend, she was happy with him, at least for a while. But there had always been something missing, she simply hadn't loved him, and it was only a matter of time until he’d realized it too. 

However, lately she often found herself wondering what if she had. Would Christmas look different now? Would she have a big decorated tree in the living room, children playing beneath it? She likes the thought of it, a lovely picture. Just not with him.

Still busy with her daydream, she’s not the least prepared for the sudden bang that echoes through her neighborhood. Unprepared for pouring the hot water all over her counter and shirt. 

She jumps to the side with a squeak, looks at the mess and then snaps her head. And if she could master a laser gaze, her window would meltdown within seconds. Because this, _this_ , is really too much. Oversized lights are one thing, twenty Santas climbing up to all kinds of windows - okay, the annoying music - annoying but bearable if one tries hard to ignore it, but _snow guns_ are really going beyond a joke.

And as all the meditation techniques Greyworm has taught her to do nothing to contain her anger, she decides that enough is enough and action must follow. Because she has to prepare a damn pitch for Christ’s sake.

With her hair messily tied at the top of her head and her shirt still full of coffee stains, Dany rips the door open and retreats directly from all the blaze of color. Lights in all possible sizes and shapes gleam at her, the over-dimensionally large Christmas tree so bright that she runs the risk of burning her cornea at the sight.

She blinks a few times when someone calls her name. “Juhuu Daenerys!”

Margaery and Loras are waving at her with large gestures, while Renly comes strolling out of the house with three full glasses of eggnog, whistling and as beaming as his other two roommates. It is admittedly a little difficult to stay angry when someone meets you with so much exuberant joy. 

So when Dany has crossed the street she’s only a little bit irritated.

“Isn't it a fantastic time?” Margaery grabs her arms and kisses her on both cheeks with a soundfull _mwah_ , “I think it's the best one of the whole year.”

“Well actually–”

“And isn't it just the best song?” Loras increases the volume of the music even more, thus preventing her from saying that no, _it's not._

She doesn't get a chance to express her complaint. The three of them talk incessantly, about the lights, the wonderful atmosphere, all the love around them. Now and then Dany tries to speak, to say that she shares their joy, _but_ that she’s got some _work_ to do. It’s useless and more like she’s talking against a wall if anything.

Until Renly lifts his hand, “guys, _guys_ , I think Daenerys is trying to say something.”

“Thanks,” she starts, straightening up her shoulders, “I just came here to point out that …”

Six eyes stare at her expectantly. Margaery with all the glitter in her hair, Loras with his ugly reindeer sweater despite the 19.4°C they’re having today, and Renly still with the eggnog in his hands. All with rosy cheeks from all the laughing. All with Christmas written all over their faces. 

There she knows that she can't do it, she can't ruin their joy, even if it’s going to cost her an extra shift. 

“I just wanted to say,” she smiles then and takes one of Renly's glasses, raises it slightly, “Merry Christmas.”

It is replied by another bang of the gun when Loras fires some more of the fake snow onto their otherwise perfectly clean lane. Dany sighs softly, then just drinks her eggnog. Accepting her fate and besides, who on earth could _actually_ get mad at Christmas?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments and encouragement. It's really appreciated ❤️

* * *

* * *

**JON**

Once the taxi has pulled away, Jon stands in front of the house just taking it in. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a building so… straight-edged. It looks like someone just drew it out with the ruler and protractor and everything and it just sort of popped out into life out from some architect’s plans. It’s nothing like home. _It’s not really possible to do that with rough stone_ , he supposes. How does anyone keep walls that _white_ and especially on the outside? Then there’s the great expanse of glass. Does the window cleaner come every day or something? Glancing around at the immaculate lawn, he wouldn’t put it past Theon to have a gardener and cleaner round on the regular. Hopefully, he’s not too disappointed with his place.

This is what he needed. Sure, there’s still the telltale signs of the holiday season around on the neighbour’s houses, but it’s not overwhelming like it is at home. There’s no pressure, and this is the showy kind of Christmas, not the ‘you must interact with literally everyone’ kind of Christmas. Right?

He feels bad though, especially when he gets his phone out to find the code to the key lock box by the door in the messages from Theon and sees the conversation with Robb. What are the chances that the one time he decides to go away for a while is the time Robb finally decides to take someone up on an inch of freedom and propose a night out? He probably should have told the family his plans, but they’d have nagged him and argued against it, and now he can’t bring himself to call them and own up to it. It’s better than them all cramming round Cat’s dining room table on Christmas Day though. Not that one body would make much of a difference, but that’s partly the point. He’s one amongst many. They’ll barely notice he’s gone.

The inside is just as neat and polished as the outside, with metres of marble worktops and what has to be the flattest parquet flooring he’s ever seen anywhere. _And is it warm?_ he wonders when he’s taken off his shoes. There can’t be underfloor heating - not in this weather. If there is, he’s not having it. And so the quest for the controls to it begins.

There are so many fucking buttons in this place, it’s unbelievable. There’s some he still has no clue about what they do even if he’s pressed them, then with the others there are lights he didn’t even know existed. Electric shutters; what’s wrong with pulling some curtains closed or shutters if needs be.

“Why the fuck does anyone need all this stuff, ey?” he mumbles to himself. _Why can’t this guy do things like a normal person?_ “Christ, I sound like my father.”

“Hmm,” an electric voice replies to him, “I don’t know that one.”

Looking up, Jon spots the device in the corner of the room flashing blue. Seriously? What got that thing starting up. On second thoughts, maybe this could work out.

“Hey, turn off the heating.”

“A few things share the name heating, which one would you like?”

“All of them!” Jon throws back at it, but the light simply just spins in response. For fucks sake. “Turn off the underfloor heating.” Nothing, not even after trying the whole host of names he knows for these things. Fan-bloody-tastic. “Fine,” he huffs, deciding he might as well listen to some music if he’s going to have to cope with this, “play Rock Classics.” Silence. Well, this is getting off to a great start. Maybe he should give up and go home. Admit this was a mistake. No one needs to know about this. Well, he’ll need to tell someone because he can’t exactly stay at his place with Theon there.

He needs someone who will know how to work one of these things but will be understanding. His first thought is Arya, but she’ll go on about him ‘ditching’ her despite her new relationship status. Maybe they aren’t at the stage they’ll do Christmas together. That’s a bit of a step. It’ll have to be someone else he calls.

“Hey,” he greets Bran when he picks up the phone, “you know how to work these shitty new PA type contraptions, right?”

“Hmm,” the machine pipes up, “I don’t know that one.”

“Oh, fuck off!”

“Excuse me?” Bran asks, already laughing at him.

“I’m staying at this place and --”

“You’re what?”

“I’m in King’s Landing - getting away from it all or whatever.”

“Jon,” says Bran, sounding older his years, “it’s _Christmas,_ when are you coming back?”

A noise like a bloody fairy chimes and suddenly a video feed pings up on the damned thing’s screen. Jon watches a woman with the most impressively platinum blonde hair he’s ever seen wearing a pair of sunglasses reach forwards out of her car window to press what he assumes is the intercom on account of the ‘ _bing bong_ ’ coming from the speaker.

“Listen, Bran, I’m going to have to call you back.” _I’ve got what looks like one of this twat’s friends at the door. A girlfriend maybe?_ No, it didn’t sound like that was a possibility when they spoke. Although, he doesn’t put it past him to just be ghosting someone and for this all to be part of the plan. 

“Jon --” Bran tries right as he hangs up.

What on earth does she want? He’s not sure he has the patience for this.

Hoping it works, he presses the ‘speak’ button and clears his throat. “Hello?”

“Hi! I was wondering if I could work here today. Neighbours are driving me up the wall. If I have to listen to Last Christmas one more time --”

“Sorry,” he cuts her off, trying to concentrate on her face rather than where the angle of the camera is leading him, “Theon’s not here.”

“Oh, well,” she sighs, “will he be long?”

“He’s on holiday so…. A while, yeah.”

“What?” A line grows on her forehead above the shades.

He can see this taking a while. “I’m going to try and let you in.” _Along with your ridiculous car._ “One sec.” 

* * *

* * *

**THEON**

He really didn't expect much, he’d seen the picture after all. Still, Theon blinks a few times, trying to guess the true size of the house in the dark evening light once the cab finally stops.

“This is it?” he asks.

“This is it.”

So a chocolate box is really not the first thing that comes to his mind, more a cupboard, a cupboard under the stairs probably, because how the hell can a house be this tiny? It almost looks like Mickey and Minnie live here, not Pluto though, because in no way is there enough room for him left.

With a click of his tongue he gets out and curses quietly as his sneakers sink deep into the white snow while the driver takes his suitcase out of the trunk.

“Happy holidays,” the man says goodbye to him, but turning his eyes back at the house, Theon is not so sure if they’ll really be this happy. Thankfully he's not claustrophobic.

Getting the key out from under the doormat, a hiding place he finds worth reconsidering, he then steps inside.

There, no surprise awaits him. All is dark and cozy as described and well … tiny, of course. It looks like there is no more than a small living room downstairs, with a fireplace, _no television_ and a kitchen, no less dinky though, next to it. At least he has a remarkable hi-fi system and an excellent record collection, which Theon will certainly take a closer look at some point.

But now the first thing he needs is a drink.

On this front there is not much to get either, but in one of the cupboards, he finds a half-full bottle of Scotch. Which definitely is not a bad start. And it tastes good too, warming up his body already after the first sip.

He briefly considers whether he should put the bottle back into the cabinet. The label looks expensive, maybe Snow saved it for special occasions? “Well, if this trip isn’t something special too,” Theon shrugs and grabs the bottle to take it with him.

He turns around, glass on his lips, when he halts in his steps. 

Because there is a wolf, a huge white wolf, staring at him from the entrance of the kitchen. With. Red. Eyes. 

He raises his brows. The wolf keeps staring. He takes one step forward. _Carefully_. The wolf tilts his head. ‘Quiet’ he is indeed, little fuss - they’ll see about that, so hard to overlook he is in no way, but he doesn't seem to be aggressive, just a really _really_ intense observer. 

Theon squints aside briefly, then back to the beast, only to realize that he’s still watching him. “You are not a dog,” he points out and the wolf emits a bark in response. “You um … you want some?” 

He holds up the bottle, raising his eyebrows and has the feeling that these red eyes are rolling at him instead of another bark, before he turns his back on him, showing his tail, and leaves the room. 

“More for me then.”

Theon follows him, finds him stretched out on the couch, every bit of space occupied, wherefore he takes a seat in one of the armchairs opposite. They continue with their staring contest for what feels like hours although it’s probably only minutes. Before Theon is bored and loses. 

“I’ll beat you next time,” he smirks and lifts his glass at the wolf. The animal though does not even bat an eye. And somehow he's got the feeling his owner would react rather similarly.

After he has emptied his glass and poured himself a new one, he starts his tour through the house. Which is not a long trip though, there’s not much more than a bedroom with a compact wardrobe, filled with only black pieces, a tiny little bathroom. So _so_ tiny.

He looks at the bookshelves, the records, the few photos hanging on the walls. He looks at everything. He even inspects the structure of the bricks the few walls are made of. He looks into every cupboard, behind doors, after only two hours he knows the whole house like the back of his hand. 

And it’s only _two hours_.

When he comes back into the living room the wolf is still there where he left him. “So …” he starts, slumping back into the chair, “what have you been up to?” 

There’s not even a hint of a reaction.

While he sits there, already a bit tipsy from alcohol, he thinks that maybe, _maybe_ , he should have chosen his vacation spot with slightly more foresight. The plan was quite simple, to be all alone, to fleeing from annoying couples and Christmas fuss. But unfortunately, there is one thing that he has perhaps imagined more nicely than it actually is.

He’s all _alone_. Just him. Nobody else. 

He's thinking about getting out his laptop and just watching something on Netflix like he probably would at home, but is this supposed to be his vacation? There must be something else he can do here. Then his eyes fall back on the records. 

“Fuck it,” says Theon, picks up the bottle now instead of the glass. _Get ready Winterfell_. And also, in a few days, he'll be gone again anyway.

A short time later Metallica is roaring through the streets, of course, the record collection was well stocked but not as versatile as Theon would have hoped. Though the more Scotch he has in him the less he cares. 

_“Never cared for what they doooo, never cared for what they knowowow, and I knooooow!”_

The wolf has gone someplace else, Theon is not sure where. And he does not blame him. 

Slightly swaying, his bottle-like microphone still with a firm grip in one hand, he reaches with his other for the remote control, just to play the song once again right from the beginning. But then suddenly he hears a knocking at the door. Shortly followed by someone shouting, “oi! Dickhead!”. 

The guy’s now banging against the door, “open up... or I'll take a piss in your bushes.”

 _Tacky_.

After reaching into the void three times he finally manages to open the door. Leans against the frame, partly to look casual, partly because he cannot stand up straight without help. And can't suppress his grin either when he looks into a pair of bright blue eyes. 

“ _You_ are not Jon”, the guy points out with a little smirk of his own.

“I’m not Jon. And unlike former statements, _you_ are hot as fuck.”

* * *

* * *

**DAENERYS**

As she drives up the short hill from the road to Asha and Theon's house, she can already spot him from afar. Standing in the doorway with his arms crossed in front of his chest and a deep frown, as if he’s being punished with a terrible headache. Which makes two of them, thanks to Renly Baratheon and his too delicious eggnog.

She should have simply turned around the second she found out that Theon wasn’t home. But that would also mean returning to the Horror of Christmas, which unfortunately still hasn't found an end yet. And she really _really_ cannot afford another day of unproductivity.

As soon as she’s parked the car, she stuffs the papers and the laptop into her bag, which she simply threw onto the passenger seat during her hasty escape, and quickly peers into the rearview mirror. Not a good idea though. Because as much as she’d like to ignore it, unfortunately, she’s no longer young enough to hide such a hangover under a thin layer of makeup.

With a light sigh she gets out, still forces herself to smile, “hello there.”

The guy only takes one hand off his arm and shows her his palm. A gesture that should probably be something like a wave. “As I said, Theon is not here.”

Wow, she certainly has had more likeable first encounters. “Yeah, this much I understood. Will he be back soon?”

He shakes his pretty dark curls, and now right in front of him, Dany has to admit that the rest of him seems also more than nice to look at. “He won't be back for a few days. He's in Winterfell over the holidays.”

“Winterfell?”

“Yes, it’s a house swap thing … that’s why I’m here and he’s at my place.”

The more he talks, the more she feels that she knows his voice from somewhere. The sound is too familiar although she can't quite place it. 

“Well, this is truly a pity. I wanted to come here to work.” Better just to come right out with it. “Because unfortunately, my neighbors are a little too ‘merry’.”

He raises his brows but Dany can also see the hint of a smile flitting over his lips. Which really suits him better than the frown, if she has anything to say about it. 

“Oh, I’m Daenerys by the way,” she slides her bag on her hip to have one hand free, holding it out to him, “Daenerys Targaryen, or just Dany if you want. I know it’s quite a mouthful.”

“Jon Snow,” he says with a handshake that is a bit too firm.

“Jon Snow huh?” she grins, the name sounds just too fake to be true. “Just the two syllables? Like, uh... James Bond? Or Bruce Wayne?”

“Most definitely _not_ like James Bond.” 

He blushes slightly, which she thinks is rather cute, and then rubs his neck in a way that makes his muscles flex. But she’s pretty sure that he’s not the least aware of this either.

“So, Jon Snow, nothing like James Bond, would it be okay if I stay here for a day?” She lifts her bag and then tries again with her most charming smile. “I promise, you won't even notice I’m here.”

And he really doesn't. After she has taken her place in Theon's study, he no longer hears a word from her. But unfortunately, _he_ is not this easy to ignore.

As she desperately tries to work her way through the masses of pitch documents, she hears him getting into a fight with Theon's smart home. A conversation she should be writing down and selling on to the next best cable station, considering the comedy potential. It sounds like he lost the argument though and then simply leaves the thing with an annoyed snort.

But only to emerge in the garden minutes later. A garden which the window faces, where Dany’s trying to do her work. Quite unsuccessfully though. And it’s all the more futile when he decides to inspect the pool and then takes off his shirt a second later. And completely _hopeless_ when the pants follow.

 _He’s so fit._ And much worse is that he’s probably not even aware of it. 

The way he carefully sticks a toe into the pool to check the temperature of the water makes it pretty obvious that he doesn't know she’s watching him. 

Which she shouldn't. Because it’s creepy. And wrong. 

But he’s the first man in _months_ showing her that much naked skin, even if unintentionally, that she can't help but catch another glimpse as he starts to swim his lanes. 

_Get a grip on yourself, Daenerys!_

And she tries, she really does. She makes it through two complete sets of files without even looking at him one more time. Not completely without thinking about him but still. She’s making progress till she hears him come out of the water. 

Then she lifts her eyes. Just for a second. _Big mistake._

It’s like Baywatch, slow motion, all that’s missing is Marvin Gaye warbling his _Sexual Healing_ somewhere in the background. Drops run down his wet chest, glittering in his hair and the short beard. His muscular arms look strong as he lifts himself up, and then these _abs_ , and these dark shorts, now sticking tightly to his body, also leaving little to the imagination.

It takes a few seconds before she realizes she’s drooling. And even though he doesn't see _her_ , fortunately, she feels the blush creeping up her cheeks immediately.

It’s most likely a picture she won’t forget so quickly even if she forces herself to look no more. And banging her head on the table with a groan of defeat, she can't help but consider returning to Winter Wonderland and just do the rest of her job with earplugs instead. Regarding this latest development it would be the simpler option, wouldn't it?

But lying there with nothing more in her sights than her stack of papers, that it’s not done with the earplugs alone. There are also the lights and the snow gun. And whatever the three come up with next. 

She must stay here at least for now. Because she has to _finally start working_. She must be a professional. And as hard as it may get, she must ignore Jon Snow.

Jon Snow walking around the house again in nothing but his tight wet shorts. Jon Snow and his much too perfect abs.

Gods fuck, she’s so screwed.

* * *

* * *

**ROBB**

Having given the others the slip a couple of hours into the night, Robb turns to take the detour he treads often on the way home up the single-lane dirt track. Or it would be dirt if not for the inch or so of snow covering it - bar the tire tracks going to and back away from Jon’s letting him know he’s back home from whatever he was doing that’s kept him from performing his brotherly duty. He means to find out what had been so important, but it's slow going getting up the hill when it's in this state and he’s, well, had a drink or two, to put it mildly.

He tugs his woollen coat tight, billowing breath lit silver in the moonlight. It’s been a long time since he felt this free. When he’d gotten a message from Sansa telling him they’d both settled by nine he could hardly believe it, and leaving them with her rather than a babysitter lifts the weight from his shoulders.

As fate would have it, there was no one who could hold his attention and barely a soul he wanted to let try. Maybe it's foolish to hope for connection. Maybe it is just too early.

In a jolly spirit, he forms a snowball and launches it at the sitting-room window. “Oi,” he shouts, walking down the path to the house, “dickhead!” Surprised not to see Jon with raised eyebrows looking through the curtains, Robb thumps against the wooden door. “Open up… or I’ll take a piss in your bushes,” he threatens, laughing.

Robb sucks in his breath when the door swings open, because _that_ is not Jon.He feels his lips tug into a smile, he just can’t help himself. “ _You_ are not Jon,” he says dumbly.

“I’m not Jon,” agrees the stunning specimen of a man leant up against the doorframe. Robb is certain he hallucinates the next part. “And unlike former statements, _you_ are hot as fuck.”

“I --,” Robb is interrupted when Ghost bounds over to him and almost knocks him over, paws up on his torso. “Hey boy,” he greets the dog, crouching down and giving him a fuss to which he receives a particularly sloppy lick to the face. “Ugh!” Laughing, he looks up at this stranger with a sparkle in his dark eyes standing in the doorway of his brother’s house, trying to figure out what he wants to say. “Do I know you? I would have thought I’d remember meeting you.”

Fuck, he’s drunk. His cheeks burn.

“No,” a chuckle leaves mystery man’s perfect lips, “you don’t know me.”

Robb blinks. This guy is very casual about answering Jon’s door. “Are you…” he frowns, trying to peer around him and into the cottage. “Is Jon not home?”

“Sorry, no, he’s gone to King’s Landing for a week or so.”

He must have misheard that. “I’m sorry, he’s what?” he asks, giving Ghost one last scratch behind the ear before he stands.

“We kinda swapped houses…” That would somewhat explain the accent. Sort of; there’s a definite Ironborn edge to it. A pause. Robb is sure he must show his shock on his face. “Are you his…?” 

“Brother. I’m his brother.” Robb extends his hand. “Robb.”

Looking as relieved as Robb feels, he takes Robb’s hand and grins broadly. A dimple graces his cheek. “Theon. Nice to meet you. Did you want to come in?” Theon asks, stepping back slightly.

“I… Well, if that’s alright? Sorry, it’s a bit of a trek from here in these conditions, I actually could do with - you know. I was planning to crash on the sofa. I wouldn’t have come if I’d have known.”

“Then I’m glad you didn’t.”

Robb quirks a brow at that. He can’t help but smile again. This is too much for him to be simply misinterpreting. Theon flattens himself against the door just enough to let Robb squeeze past, but not so much as to deprive Robb from feeling the heat of his body or a brief touch.

 _God, he smells good_ , Robb is still thinking when he splashes water on his face in the bathroom and tries to neaten himself up.

“What _are_ you listening to?” Robb asks rhetorically when he gets back, still feeling the rush from brushing up against Theon, and perches on the arm of Jon’s sofa to root through the music collection on the shelves, ready to attempt finding something with a different mood buried within. “Brave move handling his records… You know,” he says, the drink loosening his tongue, “I was a little concerned you might be…” 

Theon sounds amused. “Yes?” He knows very well what he’s getting at though, Robb is certain of that.

“With him, I guess.” Carefully - Jon really will kill them if they get so much as the tiniest scratch on one of them - Robb removes the record, ignoring the stare he feels on him through the haze.

Laughing, Theon asks, “am I your brother's type?”

“Well,” Robb turns to look over his shoulder after he’s slipped the cover from the Northern Soul compilation album he’s selected that Jon had inherited from their uncle, “he is a sucker for a beautiful smile.” He hadn’t intended for it to come out like that, but he’s not about to let the opportunity to wink pass him by.

Once he’s looked away, he senses movement behind him.

Theon’s voice turns sultry. “Concerned?”

Robb smiles, concentrating on getting the music on before he turns on the chair arm, away from the record player, to give Theon his full attention. No sooner has he done it is Jon’s guest just in front of him, on the cusp of being between his knees. Biting his lip, he reaches to tentatively graze his fingers over Theon’s hand. When Theon responds to it by slipping between his thighs, he grins, moving hands to run over his sides. “Very.”

Theon leans in to meet his lips and groans softly at Robb’s eager tongue against his own and the hand carding through his inky hair. He tastes of the scotch Jon tends to reserve for noteworthy events. Robb had hoped to have a decent tipple this evening and he’s certain there’s no better way to sample a good whisky. He slides down to sit properly on the seat of the sofa with his mouth against Theon’s, pulling him down along with him.

“You’re welcome to stay over still… only, I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable down here on the couch,” Theon pulls away to tell Robb, a smirk playing on his lips and breath hot against Robb’s own.

Fuck, he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anything more, but this is probably a bad idea. Then again, it’s not like there are any complications to be found here. Theon, with his head now cocked while he waits for the answer, will be gone soon. It’s just a bit of fun. 

Robb’s heart races. He’s drunk on lust as much as drink. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Thank you for all your support and we hope you enjoy the new chapter! ❤️

* * *

* * *

**JON**

Jon is waiting for her when she arrives the next day. He must be mad to have so readily given up his alone time and privacy to this complete stranger for another day running, no matter how charming she might be. He came here to get away from chaos and yet here he is opening the door to it in the form of a beautiful woman.

The sunglasses are a wardrobe staple, it seems, but bar the plaits keeping it from her face, her hair falls free over her shoulders in loose curls rather than being bundled into a bun on top of her head this morning.

“Morning!” Dany chirps at him as she steps inside the house, laptop bag strap over her shoulder, and bringing a waft of a fruity scent along with her. She seems… brighter today. “Did you sleep well?”

“Hey. Well, sort of.”

She arches a dark eyebrow at him. “Sort of?” 

“I still haven’t figured out how to work the blinds or whatever, so I woke up earlier than intended,” he explains sheepishly, closing the door behind her.

“Nightmare. I’ll have a look for you a little later?”

“That would be great - only if you have time though.”

Smiling, she takes off the glasses and pops them into the handbag on her arm. “Of course.” All he can think is that he must either have been out of his mind yesterday or too far away once she’d had her face free of them because he finds himself taken in by her eyes and their unusual colour.

Realising he’s staring, he clears his throat, averting his eyes. “I’m going to make a drink. Can I get you anything?”

“Coffee would be great. I’ll come with.”

In the ridiculously sleek modern kitchen, she pulls herself up to sit on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, stashing her bags on the one next to her. He can’t help but find himself drawn into how the long flowy skirt she’s wearing hangs against her.

“So,” she begins, watching him root around the cupboards from the opposite side of the counter, “you’re from the North? What brings you this way?”

Taking what appears to be a long-neglected cafetière down from the cupboard, he adds a few spoons of coffee to it, not quite knowing what he’s doing. “I --” he sighs and scratches his beard, deciding he might as well be honest, “I’m going through a break up.”

“Oh,” Dany says softly, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Jon waves his hands slightly. “It’s fine,” he claims, despite it very much not being. “Just a bit much to deal with alongside all the family Christmas stuff and whatever, you know?”

Shaking her head, Daenerys becomes invested in investigating what must be a minuscule imperfection on the t-shirt she’s wearing. “Not really, no.”

“Well…” he pours boiling water over the coffee, “I suppose you can imagine.” 

She purses her lips at that, so he stops still and waits for her to explain. “I don’t have that kind of family… or much of one at all really. Just a brother I avoid at all costs.“

Jon feels his stomach sink and knot with guilt. She says it in a matter of fact sort of way, but her eyes aren’t nearly so uncaring about it. “Shit. Sorry. You must think I’m such a dick.” He really needs to start thinking before he speaks. Needs to learn not everyone has the same privileges he was raised with. 

“No,” Dany chuckles as she shakes her head to reassure him, hair tumbling over her shoulder, “just normal.” She hops down from her seat and takes a couple of cups down from the right cupboard on the first go which has him wondering something he’s not quite managed to ask yet.

“So, how do you know Theon?” Jon asks to change the subject, eyes on the plunger as he pushes it down and well aware that he has some heat in his cheeks.

“We work together.”

This shouldn’t come as much of a relief as it does, especially not when she hadn’t been too shocked at him having taken off. “Ah, ok.” When he looks up, he finds her watching him with an amused expression. 

“How about you?”

“I don’t; not really. I just put this last-minute ad up for a house swap and he answered it.”

“I’m guessing your place is pretty different to this?” 

The corner of his mouth curls just thinking about it. At least it won’t just be him trying to contend with the change. “Yeah, it’s not exactly full of mod cons… And a little isolated, apart from my family in the vicinity.” He never knows when it's the right moment to admit to the whole ‘I live on the family’s ancestral estate’ thing.

“Oh boy.” She gives a short laugh, creases in the corners of her eyes, that he finds himself hoping to recreate. “I wonder how he’s coping.”

“As well as me, I would imagine,” he jokes and is rewarded with a gorgeous smile that’s enough to bowl him over. She’s quite something.

“Well,” Dany tucks her hair back behind her ear and finishes pouring out what he hopes is a palatable cup of coffee before she begins to gather her things up, “as nice as this is, I suppose I should stop chatting and get to work. Thank you for the coffee.”

* * *

* * *

**THEON**

Theon wakes up with a feeling any man would have, drinking a whole bottle of Scotch on their own. Coated tongue, dry throat, a dull throbbing behind the temple. But what’s added, and not a given, is the way his muscles ache as he moves, a slight sting in places he knows it can only mean one thing.

Beside him, the sheets shift and heat rushes through his body at the thought of last night. And he has to say that he's a little impressed that they even managed _that_ , given their condition. Hopefully, they’ll repeat it as soon as they can. 

Theon lifts the blanket to take another look at what he’s dealing with. And has to bite his fist directly to not wake him up. To suppress the noise that comes up. Because _fuck_ , nowhere in this world might be a man with a more perfect butt. 

“What are you doing there?” 

Theon looks to the side, meeting two bright blue eyes and a wry grin. He moves only as much as necessary, one arm still tucked under the pillow, his red curls tousled, his eyelids heavy from sleep.

Theon smirks back, “just a sneak peek.”

“You can make it a long one if you like?”

The second Robb turned on his back, he’s on top of him, straddling his waist and they both hum in pleasure as their tongues meet, despite the morning-breath.

“What time’s it?” Robb purrs, bucking his hips.

“Time to get laid,” says Theon as he kisses down Robb’s neck.

It gives him such a rush as he feels those strong hands harden their grip on his hip, as he hears the soft gasp slowly turn into a moan. They fit so well together, knowing the right places without having to ask for them, having to search for them. And he’s quite sure this man was sent to him with only one purpose: To make up for all the sex he's missed in the last few weeks. 

Or not. Because just when this thought has settled, as a smug grin formed on Theon’s lips, they’re interrupted.

Next to them, Robb's jeans start bouncing across the floor. And the caller is persistent, it doesn't take long until it starts ringing again after a short pause and finally Robb gives in. “I … I think I have to answer that.”

Theon climbs down again, gives him enough room to reach for his phone. He doesn't see the name on the display, but the expression in his eyes is enough explanation. This look of guilt is one Theon knows all too well, yet he can't ignore that it's the first time he's actually a bit disappointed at seeing it. 

Of course, he’s in a relationship. He’s too handsome and far too charming not to be. And when Robb hesitates before picking up, that's Theon's sign to leave. 

“I'll give you some privacy,” he says bitterly, and then tries to make up for it with a smile, as he does so often.

But he can't keep it up for long. As soon as the door is closed behind him, it collapses. And scowling, he rubs a hand over his face, ties up his hair and makes his way to the kitchen. If he can't get a shag, at least he has to get a cup of coffee.

Or so he hoped. The search for the coffee machine poses the next challenge. One that Theon still hasn't mastered when he hears footsteps coming down the stairs ten minutes later.

“Hey, um … sorry about that,” Robb starts but Theon shakes his head.

“Don't worry, I get it.”

“Oh... really?” He seems surprised as he keeps fumbling with the few buttons on his shirt.

“Yeah, you know, it's not the first time I've been in this type of situation,” Theon says, and continues to open all kinds of cupboards only to close them again seconds later, even more frustrated. Besides, didn't he already do that yesterday? Does this guy even own a coffee machine?

When he looks back at Robb, he is holding a pot and a pack of matches in each hand.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Not very likely,” he takes one step forward, “want some help with this?”

Actually, Theon would like that, but still, he decides against it. It's better not to make things more complicated. “Thanks, I think I got it.”

They stand in the kitchen for long uncomfortable minutes or maybe just seconds, looking at each other, waiting for one to move. Robb is it then who finally breaks eye contact and reaches for his jacket. “So, it was nice to meet you. And maybe ... if you want to … again? I don't know how long you stay.”

“It's probably better we just leave it like this, don't you think?”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” 

Theon can't miss the little blush creeping up Robb's neck as he walks him to the door. And the slight smell of sweat and sex that still clings to him is also hard to ignore. Even more so when he suddenly turns around, just before he reaches for the door, and their chests bump together. 

“Sorry, I …” Robb scratches his neck, then smiles as Theon leans back but grins as well. “That was pretty good last night, right? I … I don't want to fish for compliments but ... it was more than good, wasn't it?” 

“It was … definitely.”

They’re both unable to contain their smiles as they keep looking at each other, thinking about whether it's okay to share one more kiss. Instead, Robb then reaches inside his jacket and pulls out his wallet. 

“If you do need help with something here though,” he hands him a card, “here's my number.”

Theon takes it, “oh, you're an editor?”

“I am. Maybe not the only thing worth knowing about me.” And with that, he finally steps outside. 

* * *

* * *

**DAENERYS**

She claps her hands together and then her laptop shut, leans back in her chair and smiles. Emits a soft sigh of relief for being past this milestone, finally, thanks to her noise-cancelling headphones and YouTube's Study Power playlist. 

That, equipped like this, she maybe could have been even more productive at home, she leaves unsaid. Tries not to think about the fact that there'd been no specific reason she came back to Theon's other than her lame excuse of the need for a change of scene to be more focused. 

No specific reason being actually the tiny wish inside her to get another glimpse at one of those rare and rather cute little smiles, because who's she trying to fool? 

When she takes off her headphones it takes her a few seconds to realize what it is, where it comes from, some soft sounds, an unfamiliar tune. It’s quiet and beautiful and without thinking, she gets up and follows the music down to the living room. There she finds him. 

He looks focused, with his eyes closed while his fingers drift over the sides of the guitar as if he were painting a picture. The deep hum of his voice enhances the warm tone, even if it sounds rather sad. So sad that it touches something inside her that only a few songs ever did. And spellbound she stands there and watches him, listens, without being able to move from the spot.

Still lingers there as he touches the last side and a soft sigh leaves his lips. Until he looks up. 

And flinches. 

“Oh I … I’m sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop.” She feels her cheeks getting warm immediately and bites her lip while waiting for his answer.

“I thought you were working,” he says and places his guitar beside him on the couch.

“I was, I just … just wanted to get some coffee.” Dany turns on her heel but then changes her mind. Because she simply has to tell him. “It’s really beautiful, you know?”

He raises his brows. 

“Your song, I mean. Your song, it's really powerful. I wouldn't have _spied_ on you if it were not.” She smiles at him after her last words, an attempt to relieve a bit of tension that hovers between them for whatever reason. And it’s a relief to see a small grin forming around his mouth as well. “It’s pretty sad though,” she adds because she can't keep that to herself either.

He sighs again, “yeah, I guess it is,” 

“Is she the one?”

“Pardon?”

“Your breakup, is that the woman you wrote the song for?” She doesn't know what has come over her, it's completely inappropriate and quite tactless at that. But Jon keeps his grin, even if it looks a bit gloomier now.

“She’s the one.” He’s pressing his lips together in a thin line, probably to suppress another sigh, before he continues, “she’d probably hate it though. Too mushy or something like that.”

“She’s an idiot then,” Dany blurts out but means it. 

And there it is, the first real smile. It reaches his eyes and spreads all over his face. It makes something stir in her chest, so she better turns around and leaves before she says something more stupid, something even more cheesy. Best thing is to walk away and get busy with her coffee. 

But he apparently has other plans. “Hey, do you wanna –”

“Hmm,” comes a voice out of nowhere, “I don’t know that one.”

“Oh for God’s sake, SHUT UP!” 

Now Dany has to raise her brows at Jon's sudden outburst and the slight blush on his neck drives a chuckle out of her mouth, no chance of preventing. She pushes her lower jaw forward, looks at him asking a silent question.

“Sorry. That was … sorry.” 

After running his hands through his hair in frustration, his curls are left a mess, standing wildly in all directions away from his head, or more the many strands that have come loose from his bun. It’s a sight no one could _not_ feel pity at.

“You want me to help you with that?”

“You know how to handle it?”

Dany smirks. “Let's just say I have a hunch about it. So … what were you trying to ask me when she interrupted?”

“Oh I …” he clears his throat, “I just wanted to ask if … if you were staying for dinner?”

He … _what?_ There’s the stir again, as the question hangs heavily in the air. No interruption, no smart home, nothing. Dany waits and so does Jon. He for both, her to answer and to continue with her inspection. She decides to go with the first.

“I'd love to,” Dany smiles.

“Oh, um, great,” Jon nods a few too many times, blinks like he didn't expect her to say _yes_ , “that’s … that’s great.”

At that she goes on, so as not to make the situation get even more awkward. Something they both seem to be pretty good at. “So, what _exactly_ did you want to say earlier?” 

He takes a deep breath, “I think I wanted to say, _hey_ , _do you wanna stay for–_ ”

“Hmm,” answers the voice again, “I don’t know that one.”

Jon rolls his eyes, but Daenerys thinks she already gots it, even if she can hardly believe how stupid Theon is sometimes, or rather how uncreative and that considering his profession.

“So you said _hey_?” 

It starts right away and there Jon seems to get it as well, “hmm … I don’t know that one.”

“It's not exactly the best trigger, I must admit.”

“It really isn't,” he admits, “yet I'm glad you solved the puzzle. It nearly drove me out of my mind.” 

And after that, he gives her another one of his smiles. A wide one, with teeth and gleaming eyes. Dany’s quite certain, this is her favorite among his looks. 

* * *

* * *

**ROBB**

Sat up on the mother’s kitchen table, Arya shakes her head. “I can’t believe he’s done this.”

“I can. I’d like to be shut of you all,” jokes Rickon.

“No one even invited you.” She laughs, looking down at him in the chair beside her. “Why are you even here?”

“I live here!” One would think this isn’t a dance they do almost every time they gather in his mother’s part of the main house with the amount of indignation.

“So?” Sansa asks him quietly over her cup of tea, ignoring the commotion of their younger siblings. “Did you have fun?”

Mid trying to convince Ben to wear a jumper, Robb smiles. “Yeah, thanks for having them.”

“And?” 

Trust her to be immediately after the gossip. It’s like she has a sixth sense with this stuff. Like she can give one look at him and know he had an ill-advised tumble with Jon’s houseguest. Well, perhaps her intuition isn’t that strong. She’s just a hopeless romantic, and this isn’t - or wasn’t to be more accurate - exactly romance.

Under the circumstances, the best cause of action is definitely to lie. “And nothing… I uh, didn’t realise Jon had gone away. Thanks, Bran, by the way,” he says, raising his voice for his brother to hear. “You could have told us! So, anyway, I went round there fairly early on --”

“What’s he like anyway?” Arya questions, interrupting him.

“Seem’s sound.” He shrugs, concentrating on straightening his son’s clothes out lest he gives the game away. “Let me stay there still.”

Rickon pulls a funny face. “So you just stayed with a complete stranger?”

“You’re one to talk,” Bran scoffs at him.

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” Arya asks, laughing.

Searching Robb’s face and catching the pink riding his cheeks during Rickon’s defence and jovial claims of slut-shaming, Sansa lowers her voice. “Is it?”

When his phone begins to ring in his pocket, Robb considers himself saved. “Keep that on now,” he tells Ben, handing him a box of raisins and throws a ‘one sec’ in Sansa’s direction. Seeing the number he doesn’t recognise, he’s quick to make assumptions and walks out into the hall to take the call, aware of curious eyes on him.

Robb forks his fingers through the curls on the back of his head. “Hello?” It comes out a little more husky than he’d like, so he clears his throat, hoping to steady his tone.

“Hey there.” God, even his voice is hot. “So, I don’t know if you were serious about that help…”

Robb hadn’t ever thought he’d be so turned on by an accent. Smooth and soothing like waves lapping gently over the sands. Not that Robb can really recall such a thing in recent memory nor that he should tell this Ironborn guy such a thing.

“Is there a problem?” Robb manages to get out in an even voice.

“It’s freezing. There’s no hot water and I am seemingly useless at getting a fire going.” There’s no denying he feels a little disappointed at hearing an actual problem, but it’s thrown away after a pause. “I was hoping you might be up for coming over to heat things up a bit.”

Turning to conceal his face, Robb grins. “I expect the boiler’s exhaust pipe has frozen,” he says as seriously as he can and hears his family start to lose interest in him. “It happens sometimes... I’ll head over as soon as I can.”

“Sure?” Theon asks, sounding a little odd. “I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

“Yeah, it’s no trouble. I just need to,” he glances over towards his kids playing with their cousins and his mum telling Arya to get down off the table, “sort something out first.”

“Let me know if you change your mind.”

* * *

Knelt at the hearth in Jon’s cottage a couple of hours later, Robb smiles as he inspects the remnants of the fire Theon has tried to light.

Theon’s foot taps him lightly on the side at his waist. “Are you laughing at me?” 

“Just a little,” he says with another grin and takes out the log, scorched black in a very localised spot, to arrange kindling beneath it.

“Some of us move with the times. We have fully functioning heating systems, double glazing. The works. And! Who, these days, still has to manually turn on the hot water. He should complain to his landlord or something. Wait, does he own this place?”

“You can’t take out the original windows, they add character. Anyway, you chose to come here,” Robb feels compelled to tell him while he builds the fire up. It is an odd place to choose to come to by oneself, however. Though they’re no strangers to tourists at Christmastime, the guests are ordinarily families with children or couples come for the atmosphere. He declines to comment on the ownership.

“Mmmm.” 

Robb raises his brows, twisting to look at him. “That bad, eh?”

“There are some perks,” Theon says and gives Robb an exaggerated look up and down. It’s still impossible to get over just how ridiculously good looking he is and this might just be the perfect angle to take in those long legs of his. “Maybe you can show me some more sights.” It’s a nice thought, but the wink tells him Theon isn’t talking about actual sightseeing.

Biting his lip, Robb turns back to the fire and sparks a match. “I was surprised to hear from you,” he admits once the paper catches. To make certain it's going before he closes the door, he leans low and tilts his head to blow under the flames until they flare, aware of dark eyes watching him closely. 

“How could I resist?”

Robb shakes his head with a smile, playing humble, and pulls down the handle to lock the door shut. “Next time, you need to make sure it can get enough air through it.”

“Or I could just call you.”

“Unfortunately,” says Robb, stroking his hands up Theon’s calves. “I can’t just come running _every_ time you need to light a fire. I do happen to have a life. I don’t come with the house.”

“You sure? So I shouldn’t say thank you to your brother?”

“Don’t,” Robb warns him. His laughter ruins the stern voice he puts on. 

It only takes the encouragement of his fingers hooking through Theon’s belt loops to have him join him down on the rug. Quick to take him up on the invitation, Theon’s hands and lips are all over Robb in seconds, making it particularly difficult to get out his next words, in fear they will leave him. Robb whispers just below his ear, “let me take you out?”

With Robb’s lips at his throat, stopping just short of marking him, Theon’s hands through his auburn hair. “O-- Okay…” He groans low. “Yeah, fuck it,” he rasps, sounding gone enough for Robb to feel a twinge of pride. “Why not?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! 🎅🏼🎄

* * *

* * *

**DAENERYS**

As hungry as a wolf people tend to say, but if Dany has her way it should be hungry like a dragon. Sometimes a wolf is just not enough. At least not now. Not to describe the hole that has opened up in her stomach during the day. With all the work, she had completely forgotten about food.

That's why she's almost gulped down her second spring roll when Jon comes out of the kitchen, dishes in one hand, glasses in the other and a bottle of wine under his arm. Though he stops in the middle of his next step as he spots her, a wry grin forming around his lips.

“Sorry.” It doesn't sound very sincere, even when she tries to smile sheepishly as she swallows the last bite. Her thumb pressed against her lower lip. “Just smelled so good, I couldn't wait.”

He takes a seat next to her on the couch, ignoring the plates, instead grabs the curry and starts eating it right out of the box. Only after the third spoonful does he look up at her. “Go on.” He nods at the food in her lap and, more than happy, she follows his command.

They eat in comfortable silence. So it’s only after she’s finished all her spring rolls, contentedly takes the first sip of wine, that she realizes they both haven't spoken a word during all their dinner. And that it wasn't unpleasant, at least not for her. Somehow the mood has changed, has become lighter, she thinks. Jon also seems much more relaxed than at noon, when he still wanted to murder some piece of electronic equipment.

Glass still in hand, Dany tugs one foot under her leg and shifts in her seat to get his attention back. “So,” she starts, “the music thing … is it a hobby or a job?”

To her irritation, Jon doesn't look up but keeps poking around in his box. “Both. I'm lucky to get paid for doing my hobby.”

“So you're really a musician?” 

He raises his eyes, chopstick halfway to his mouth, and nods. “Is that bad?”

“What? No! Why should it?” If anything, she finds it insanely exciting. “Do I know any of your stuff?”

“I don't think so. We don't really do ... mainstream.”

“And I look like _mainstream_ to you, do I?” She can hardly hide the offended tone in her voice.

“Didn’t say that.”

“But thought it.”

Jon sets his food down on the table and reaches for the wine. His arm lightly brushes her knee, barely more than a touch, and yet she feels a light shiver running over her skin. It is not much, but her gaze softens. Even more so when he looks up at her with his dark eyes before pouring himself a glass. 

“You definitely look anything but mainstream,” he says then takes a deep gulp, as if he were downing a shot of booze instead of this sweet liquid meant to be savoured. Maybe he's not quite as relaxed as she thought.

“In any case, it's great when you can do what you enjoy,” she tries to keep the conversation going. As pleasant as the silence was, she likes it more when he talks, when he laughs. Besides, she has set her mind on getting to know him. And she never stops when she’s made a decision.

“Do you?” he asks then. “Your job I mean, is it something you enjoy?”

“I wouldn't spend so much time on it if it weren't for that.”

He doesn't respond. Instead, they just keep looking at each other for a while, him smiling, her smiling. It's the kind of moment when someone would normally come in to snap their fingers in front of her face. But now, besides them, no one is there. 

“Jon?” His name still feels foreign on her tongue, but it gets better, becomes more familiar. Just like him. And she likes that, even if she probably shouldn't.

“Hmm?”

“Would you play it again, the song you sent played at noon?”

It's not an outright _yes_ , no cry of excitement as he scratches his beard with uncertainty, but still he gives in. Wants to grant her wish. 

However, in place of doing it if he dumps his remaining curry on her lap. Because when he turns, the space between him and the table too small, his arm bumps against the box and rice and chicken pieces rain down right on Dany and her skirt.

“Oh fuck!” Jon’s with her the next second.

“It's okay,” she laughs. But it dies when she suddenly feels his hand on her thigh, as she looks up and sees the shock in his eyes, his own realization that _he has_ _put his hand on her thigh._

So close, Dany sees for the first time that his eyes are not black but the darkest shade of gray, like coal, like warm stones. It's a beautiful color, she thinks. And then she doesn't think at all as she leans forward and presses her lips on his.

Jon's beard tickles her and he tastes like wine and curry, just like herself. Hesitates, so that she gets afraid he might back away any second. But then his hand on her leg twitches and slowly finds its way to her neck, into her hair. And then he doesn't push, but pulls. Pulls her to him, his grip strong yet gentle, as he opens his lips so very slightly to taste her as well.

She doesn't give a shit about the spilled curry anymore, doesn't give a shit about anything as she puts a hand on his chest. Feels his heartbeat matches her own. How long has it been since she has kissed someone like this? That she’s been kissed like this? And that she got this excited just by mere kissing?

With Jon's lips on hers, she forgets all about time, so she doesn't know at what point the little voice in her head finally makes itself heard. But when it does, it's hard to ignore.

So Daenerys leans back, taking a breath. “Um… it’s, it’s getting late.”

The true meaning is obvious. But to her relief, Jon doesn't frown again, but continues to smile, blinking a few times as he moves back as well. “Yeah, you're right.”

They clean up the curry massacre together, not without exchanging a few glances now and then. Biting their lips without, however, really being able to avoid both their slight grins. And when her hand touches his a few times in the process, when she might linger there a little longer ... 

Well, it's not like there's anyone here to blame her.

* * *

* * *

**THEON**

He’s a fool, he knows that, and maybe also a bit desperate. And if he's completely honest with himself, he didn't really try the fire thing for very long, and not very serious at all. Much more so did he take it all as a sign to throw over his still relatively reasonable resolutions of the morning after. 

Maybe he also misinterpreted it, his look, his hesitation. Maybe it was just a work call? In any case, the current situation suggests exactly just that. 

Because this is definitely a date, and a pretty good one at that. 

And who takes someone on a date when they're actually in a serious relationship? Robb doesn't give the impression of being that kind of person. There are some, but not he.

“How is it?” he asks, looking up from his bowl of mac'n'cheese, while he guides another fork into his mouth. 

There Theon grins has to grin, again, by now his muscles ache a bit, “surprisingly delicious for children's food.” 

The blush is hard to see, but Theon trained long enough to notice the slightest of such signs at first glance. They have been out in the cold long enough while making their rounds over the Christmas market, so Robb's cheeks have a healthy color anyway. It’s a look he rather likes. 

“Any plans for tomorrow?”

“Not much. After all, I am here to escape all the Christmas fuss, remember?” Theon takes another big bite himself, thinking about whether to say that even in his thirties he still _likes_ kids' food best, “what about you?”

“Not much either, all fairly quiet."

"No visitors?" 

Robb shakes his head, "the real chaos comes the day after.”

Theon chuckles, “big family?”

“ _Big_ is an understatement.” 

Of course Robb finishes his meal before him. But even if he wolfed it down, he still has the decency to dab the corners of his mouth afterwards in a very noble manner. Still grinning of course. And really, Theon feels like he's losing his mind over that grin. 

About almost everything Robb does, everything he is, the perfect blend of gentleman and lumberjack if Theon has to label it. Forthcoming yet tough, ready to lend a hand. And it’s especially those hands that make him drool, fortunately just figuratively speaking. As he helped him into his coat, but could just as easily throw him onto the bed the next moment.

Robb's fingers tap lightly against his and he raises his eyes, “what are you thinking about?”

“Sex,” Theon smirks. What else could he think of? And he loves the bursts of laughter he gets in response.

After he too is done with eating, they continue their tour. Looking at stalls with candles and figurines and all sorts of stuff that people seem to _actually_ buy here and then watch parents and their children standing in huge lines, just to be allowed to pet a donkey and some goats at the end. 

The donkey owner raises his hand in greeting as they pass. And when Theon looks to the side he sees Robb's own hand just as it lowers. Which is not the first time this has happened. “You are quite well known here, aren't you?”

“It is a small town.”

“I don't see that many others waving around that much,” Theon pushes, “you’re a celebrity or something?”

The movement catches him off guard. One second he’s walking, the next he’s pressed against some wood in one of the small paths between the stands. Then there's Robb’s mouth close to his ear. “Actually I'm the king of their village and they’re all my servants,” he smirks and pulls him even closer.

Theon chuckles, “is that so? I guess I'd better bend the knee then?”

“Bend them both when we’re back somewhere more private.”

Despite the cold, he feels hot as Robb presses their lips together. Hums with delight when he feels his tongue, demanding and yet just teasing in a way that makes him shiver. He grabs Robb's curls, holds him tight, and can't help but moan as he feels teeth biting at his lower lip. 

Though the feeling doesn't last as long as he’d wished. Just till he reopens his eyes and notices Robb peering off to the side. “All good?”

“All fine.” He turns his look back at him the second he speaks, “more than that.”

“You’re sure?” 

To be honest, he doesn't mind being one thing on the side if that's what Robb wants. He made his decision the second he dialed the number. Even if he would prefer it otherwise, cause somehow he really likes the guy, but he can handle it. He'll be gone in a few days anyway. 

Still he needs to know what game they’re playing. 

It seems to be written across his face, the confusion, the irritation. Theon can hardly believe that now he’s the one to ask for _a talk_ , this vacation truly opens up his horizons. But when he opens _his mouth_ , he is interrupted at once.

“I'll explain, okay? Just… just not yet, okay?” Then instead of any more words Robb starts kissing his neck.

 _I don't mind if you’re in a relationship_ , Theon wants to say, instead he smirks and lets Robb have his way with him. Enjoying the kissing and grinding until the voices around them become quieter, until the market slowly empties. 

It takes some time after, till they finally decide to make their own way back to Jon's. It's not a particularly long walk, but once Robb's body is no longer this close, Theon feels the cold slowly creeping into his coat. As he rubs his hands together and blows against them, his breath leaves white clouds in the air. 

He takes another step then Robb grabs his wrist, presses his thumb into his palm and leads his knuckles up to his lips, where he kisses them. And he doesn’t let go till they reach the front step. 

Like they’re a real couple and this an actual date.

* * *

* * *

**JON**

**Messaging:** Theon Kings Landing  
  
**Theon:** so much for no hot people about  
  
**Jon:** I’m sorry, what?  
  
**Theon:** not spoken to your brother recently I take it?  
  
**Theon:** anyway, I thought I might stop by with a gift  
  
**Theon:** say thanks and all that for helping me out  
  
**Theon:** sunless there’s a reason I shouldn’t?  
  
**Jon:** Are you talking about Robb?  
  
**Theon:** do you have more gorgeous brothers?  
  
**Jon:** I wouldn’t say that of any of them!  
  
**Theon:** evidently  
  
**Theon:** so, would you mind sending his address?  
  
**Jon:** [MAP]  
  
**Jon:** I’d recommend giving him a bit of warning.  
  


Jon has a good mind to take this up with Robb ASAP, but he’s instead startled by the sound of the twinkling noise and the crunch of gravel which he assumes is Dany’s car coming up the drive. Wasting no time, he heads to the front door in what would be an embarrassing fashion if anyone were to see to welcome her.

“You can’t possibly be working on Christmas eve,” he says, squinting in the afternoon sun. At least she hadn’t started early.

“I’m not planning to.” Daenerys smiles brightly, golden stars swinging in her ears, and closes the car door behind her. “The neighbours have gone into overdrive and, well… I thought _maybe_ you’d like to do something.” She bites her lip, painted a festive red, nerves suddenly showing. “I know you wanted to get away from everything, but I can’t imagine it's easy to ignore altogether.”

“Thank you…” he says softly, thinking back on their kiss, “I’d like that.” It does feel a little odd to be doing absolutely nothing on Christmas Eve. No last minute panicked shopping. No celebratory drink in the pub after it's done.

“Fab. Get your shoes on, we’re going out. Unless you have any objections?”

He shakes his head and makes a grab for the nearest shoes to him. “No objections.”

Dany refuses to tell him where they are going while she drives them, just laughs each time. She smells particularly good today, or maybe that's just because of their close proximity. Either way, Jon is struggling to concentrate on anything but her and the citrus scent wafting his way each time she moves. They are driving through landscapes he’s never experienced before, but nothing compares to her.

Her hair shines a brilliant silver in the sunlight streaming in through the car windows as she pulls into a carpark. “I imagine the sea is a rare sight for you and thought you might like a visit while you’re so close,” she explains once they’re out the car and after the moment they spend just watching the waves rolling onto the sands. The guy in the santa hat and beard attempting to surf.

“You thought right.” Jon shares a smile with her.

“I’m just going to pay for parking.”

He watches her walking away, the fabric of her green jumpsuit rippling against her in the sea breeze. Seeing her like this in a new time and place reminds him that he’ll soon be leaving, that there aren’t many new experiences he’ll have with her and that gives him a pang of regret. It also reminds him about home and his rushed exit. It seems so long ago that he was left heartbroken.

A hand against the car door, he pulls his phone from his pocket. “Robb, Theon texted,” he says once his brother answers, getting straight to the point.

“Oh.” Robb’s tone tells him everything he needs to know. He hadn’t misinterpreted anything.

“Oh,” he repeats, imitating him. “Is that all you’ve got?”

“Hold on! Just you wait a second! You’re the one that took off without a word. You could’ve told me why you were going to let me down. _Then,_ maybe I wouldn’t have rocked up at your front door.” During this sudden tirade he can hear the kids chattering the background asking for him. “The smalls want to speak to you, put on your camera.”

“Uncle Jon, where you?” Lyra questions immediately, a frown brewing on her little forehead.

“I’m just having a little holiday. Are you excited about Christmas?”

Ben gives a small smile while nodding. “Yes, we’re -- Who’s that?”

He knows who will be standing there, but he turns to look anyway. “Oh, this is my new friend, Daenerys,” he says, failing not to grin like a fool as he holds the phone at a different angle to get her in. “Dany, this is my niece and nephew, Lyra and Ben --”

“For Benjen,” Ben interrupts.

“For Benjen,” Jon repeats with a smile, “and my brother, Robb.”

Dany gives them a friendly wave. “Hello, it’s lovely to meet you all.”

Robb’s expression tells him he’s quickly making his own assumptions about the situation. “You too. Were you aware he abandoned us all without letting anyone know what he was doing?”

In the video image of him and Dany, Jon can see her exaggerate a look of shock, dropping her jaw. “He did not?”

“He did!” chime both of the kids.

“Do you know what I think?” she asks them, pressing a finger just to the corner of her mouth.

Their excitement at her speaking to them both like this is incredibly sweet. It’s a shame they aren’t meeting her in person. “What?”

“I think, he had better make sure he brings you back excellent presents, right?”

Lyra nods her head enthusiastically as her brother smiles and looks to see what their dad makes of this. From what he can tell of Robb, Jon would say he’s getting a lot of entertainment from this, even if it does look like book vouchers are out of the picture. That is, until the doorbell rings. “Are you coming too?” she asks, sticking with the conversation despite being shifted from Robb’s knee and the phone being propped up on the table.

“Hey, Ben,” Jon says quickly, “would you run fast after your dad and let him know that ‘Theon’ is coming and that might be him?”

“Dad!” he shouts as he takes off. “Daddy!”

“That would be nice one day,” Dany answers Lyra, “but no.”

Lyra sighs heavily, chest heaving. “Oh.”

“Maybe one --” she begins to say right before the little girl takes off without another word and makes her laugh.

“Well,” says Jon, putting his phone away. “You best have some ideas about these presents.”

She laughs. “I’m just telling it how it is… I’d want to spoil them.” 

“I think you’re already a favourite.” It’s true, he hasn’t seen anyone be such as instant hit nor fit right in.

Shrugging, Daenerys looks off towards the beach. “Kids tend to like me.”

“They’re not the only ones.”

Her violet eyes sparkle when she looks back at him. They wear her smile as much as her lips. “No?” she prompts, raising her brows at him.

Shaking his head at her acting like she doesn’t know exactly how he feels, Jon moves in close to Dany and uses a finger to gently push a strand of hair back from where it’s fallen into her face. She watches him carefully in the corner of his eye, tracking the way he looks at her. 

The first kiss had come almost from nowhere, he means to make sure this one is thought out. Deliberate. Her puckered lips are soft against his when they touch. “No,” he asserts quietly when they part and runs his hand down to her jaw to draw her back in.

Dany’s hand finds his. He fears she will pull it away, halt him. Instead she holds him to her, brushing her thumb over his knuckles and hums contentedly.

* * *

* * *

**ROBB**

Lifting Lyra from his lap and setting her back down on the chair, Robb smiles at his daughter’s clear enchantment with Jon’s ‘friend’. _Friend_. The word seems laughable with the way he’d looked at her. His kids aren’t the only ones taken with her, he’s sure.

It’s too late on Christmas Eve for this to be anyone but family at the door, but there is a suspicious lack of incessant knocking for it to be the usual suspects so he quickens his pace, tripping over a pile of shoes in the process. He’s still kicking them aside when he opens the door.

“Hey.” That voice can only belong to one person.

“Hi,” Robb manages to breathe out, finally looking ahead of him to see Theon with snowflakes settling in his hair. He keeps the ‘ _what are you doing here?_ ’ inside.

“Sorry, is this a bad time?” Theon asks, eyes drifting first to the large shoe collection and then down the hall. “You said you weren’t --”

“Dad!” Ben shouts as he races from the kitchen. Robb cringes, watching Theon’s eyes widen. He knows exactly what the assumption will be. “Daddy!”

Theon, predictably, moves to turn away. To make a run for it. “I’ll just --” 

“Wait.” Robb catches him by the arm, pushing aside his fears.

“Uncle Jon said…” Ben tails off when he reaches the door, instantly shy at the sight of a stranger at the door.

His hand automatically reaches to give a brief and comforting stroke of his son’s hair. “What did he say?” 

“Maybe Theon,” Lyra answers for him.

“Ah,” says Robb, lifting her up. A little warning would’ve been nice. _Thanks Jon_. “Well, Uncle Jon was right, this is my friend Theon.” He fails to keep the creeping flush over the word friend at bay. 

“Hello.” Theon’s lips turn into what appears to be a genuine smile, recovering admirably. 

“This is Ben and Lyra.”

“Benjen, not Benfred,” Ben adds on with Theon nodding as though he understands perfectly the importance of the matter.

“Ah, ok, thank you for letting me know.”

Robb nips his lip to keep a grin at bay then clears his throat. “Would you like to come inside?” he asks, suddenly well aware that he is covered in icing. “We’re _trying_ to build a gingerbread house.”

“Sure,” says Theon, confusion written on his face, “if it’s not a problem?”

“Not at all, I’m going to put you to work though.” He steps back to let Theon into the house and waits while he hangs up his coat. “Maybe you’ll have more of a knack for it.”

“Baking is not daddy’s forty,” Lyra sighs in a near perfect imitation of his mother.

Catching Theon’s very amused but confused expression, Robb laughs. “Forte.”

“That what I said,” she says stubbornly.

Ben mumbles at his side, “no you didn’t.”

“Hey hey, it doesn’t matter. Go on into the kitchen, I’ll be there in a second. You can eat three chocolate buttons, ok? _Three_.”

Theon chuckles. “What are the chances they’ll stick to three?”

“Ben, I’m pretty certain will stick to three. Her, slim to none.” He smiles fondly while they trundle off, continuing with their lighthearted disagreement.

“So…” Theon coughs. “Daddy, huh?” he asks, a grin spreading across his face. Robb nods in response, rubbing the back of his neck with a bashful smile. “Partner?”

“No.” Before Theon has the chance to ask further, he decides to explain rather than prolong the difficult conversation. “She, my wife that is, she um… sorry, this isn’t a conversation I’m used to having… everyone knows each other's business and all that… she passed away.”

“Oh.” The sympathetic look Robb has come to expect appears briefly before his eyebrows bunch. He doesn’t sound angry, or even solemn when he asks softly, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“Honestly? At first it was just nice getting to just be me. Not dad me. Not widower me. It was nice to pretend to have a little less responsibility for a few hours here and there. People find out and they change, you know? Then I suppose I thought you need not know… you’ll be leaving soon.” He chews his lip. Unsure of when things changed. “Only, I began to feel like I needed to tell you, or wanted to at least, but by then I’d left it a little late. I was planning to tell you…”

“When? When I asked if you’d be up for flying down for the weekend?”

“I…” He searches for the answer. “Would you have?”

“Come on,” Theon grins, patting his bum playfully as he brushes past, “we’ve got a house to build.”

Fifteen minutes later and Theon has the roof sticking perfectly on what appears to be a structurally sound gingerbread house, even when he removes his hands, which had been thus far proved impossible. And this is something he has achieved whilst withstanding an interrogation from Lyra and drawing Ben into a conversation about horses following a glance at the photo of him on a pony on the wall. The man deserves a medal. Or he would have had he not gone and planted the idea of horse ownership in his son’s ears with tales of his childhood horse Smiler.

“There you go. Just needed a bit of patience,” Theon says, smirking across at Robb leant against the kitchen cupboard knowingly. It’s true, Robb isn’t known for his patience with some matters. After giving them a few tips with the decorating, he heads over, standing close and slips an arm onto the counters to stroke Robb’s lower back while they’re distracted.

“Thank you… I’m not very good with this stuff… I’m not very good at any of it if I’m being honest,” he adds quietly. “That might be why I didn’t tell you. It might have been easier if I had things under control…” This is too much, too serious, for what is meant to be a brief fling. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about this.”

“Feel free to vent, but I’m certain you’re doing a much better job that you realise.”

“I’m a mess. Literally.” He gestures up and down himself, referencing the icing on his hands, the powdered sugar of his clothes. He’s pretty certain it’s also in his hair. Perhaps on his face. There has been an awful lot of frustration. “Figuratively.”

Theon further lowers his voice. “A very sexy mess.” He smiles at seeing Robb blushes lightly. “I’m being serious,” he flicks his finger up and down over the back of the simple t-shirt Robb is wearing, “if you don’t think you’re doing a good job you’re very much mistaken.”

“Dad,” Ben’s voice draws him back to watching them sticking on gumdrops in a haphazard manner, “is Theon staying over?”

“Not today.” At the sounds of their disappointment he adds, knowing very well he should broach this with Theon first. “He might come to dinner tomorrow at Grandma’s I think though. If we ask nicely.” Theon raises an eyebrow at him but puts forward no opposition. “There is a spare place after all.”

“Uncle Jon staying with ‘nerys,” Lyra tells Theon, with a dramatic expression, eyebrows raised, she has to have learnt from his family and their penchant for gossip. Only, she then has her lips pursed and her belly pushed out too.

Grinning, Theon looks to Robb for confirmation. “Is she talking about Daenerys?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wishing you all a Happy New Year! Sorry for the delay in getting this out, life has been a little busy.

* * *

* * *

**ROBB**

Robb can’t say that he isn’t surprised Theon has made an appearance today, but he is thankful for it. There is no denying how his own face had lit up on seeing Theon at his door, taking up the offer of walking around to his mother’s door together so as to avoid the possibility of having to greet family members alone. _It’s times like this_ , he thinks, _where having kids around comes in handy to ease the tension a little_. Though, he imagines they will feature as an element in Cat’s disapproval. 

After letting them in and content in the knowledge that Ben is instructing Theon as to where his coat should go, Robb hesitantly walks further down the hall and peeks around the corner into the kitchen. 

“Is he here?” Sansa asks the second she looks up from mashing potatoes and sets eyes on him.

The smile on his face comes unbidden. He gives her a curt nod, ignoring the clear levels of excitement. His eyes flick across to his mum pulling a tray of roast potatoes from the oven. Because clearly two types of potato are a christmas necessity. 

“I suppose it's a good job I had planned for twelve, isn’t it?” Cat starts with.

“Merry Christmas, mum,” says Robb, ignoring the small dig and extending a very last minute invite, and shares a bitten back grin with Sansa before leaving again to help Lyra with her shoes. Knowing her she’s likely cooking enough to feed a small army anyway and probably likes a little extra something to fuss over.

“Grandma!” Lyra shouts, heading into the kitchen to show off the new toy doctor’s kit she’s been obsessed with all morning. She’s unlikely to find a more willing patient here than Grey Wind had been.

“Merry Christmas, sweetpea. Did you get some presents from Santa? Where’s that brother of yours?”

Robb ushers Ben in after her to be fussed over by their grandma and aunt, then turns to Theon, brushing his hand over his arm. “There’s still time to run away,” he jokes, trying to push aside his anxiety that his date actually might. 

Theon smirks. “Don’t worry, I won’t subject you to having to explain my disappearance only hours after being invited.” His dark eyes travel over the surroundings, taking in the elaborate features; the carved bannisters of the staircase, the decorative coving and cornices.

Robb’s own home is on the opposite end of the house, or hall as it is perhaps better described. While his is converted from what had been once the servant’s quarters, owing to it’s _slightly_ more modern and simple feel, the portion he grew up in is the section of the house his great grandparents fashioned to be the more informal after they scaled back the amount of help. The formal areas they leave open to visitors and events. With Sansa managing that side of things only the estate and the income from it demands his attention.

He senses Theon’s gaze turn back to him.

“You’re the eldest?” he asks casually.

“Yeah.” Robb sucks in his lip, hoping Theon won’t be weird about it.

“So, I’m going to hazard a guess and blame you for the arctic conditions in that cottage.”

“They are not arctic,” Robb laughs. This wasn’t the turn he expected. “Anyway, Jon is more than welcome to do whatever he would like with the place.” Theon emphasises his faux unimpressed look in response and lets himself be led away to meet the rest of the family who, bar maybe Bran, are significantly more enthusiastic about this than his mum had been. He knows they will have suspected something to be going on between them already, but he sees the way Arya, Rickon, and even Pod take one look at them, stood next to one another, and exchange smirks.

“Told you,” says Rickon smugly, mostly directed towards Arya.

“I just didn’t realise he had it in him,” she admits with a shrug.

“Guys,” Robb interjects, catching Theon bite back a laugh beside him. “Not the time. This is Theon. Theon, this is Arya, my sister, my brothers, Bran and Rickon, my sister Sansa’s husband, Pod, and their kids, Sybelle and Myriame.”

* * *

“I think she’s warming to me,” Theon smiles when Robb pulls him into the kitchen hours later under the guise of fetching more drinks. He’s not wrong, below her surface level disinterest in Theon’s charm, Robb can tell she’s a touch flattered by the compliments.

“Mmmm,” Robb hums into the hollow of Theon’s neck, “maybe you should stick around.”

“I was planning to stay as long as you do,” Theon breathes, his fingertips dipping under Robb’s waistband to tease him, “maybe drop by yours for a nightcap.”

In a whispered breath against Theon’s ear, Robb tells him, “you know what I mean.”

“Tempting as it is, and it is - believe me,” he groans at the kisses placed against his throat for emphasis, “I can’t. There’s my job, and the longer this goes on the harder it's going to be.”

 _For everyone involved,_ Robb acknowledges. This is the main concern his mum had unloaded on him when he’d gone back to see her alone. But it doesn’t mean he likes it.

“You could always come down,” Theon suggests hopefully between kisses. “If not now, then in a couple of weeks or so.”

“I can’t… not really. They’re still young. I’ve never left them more than a night.” He’d say something along the lines of long distance relationships rarely working, but this isn’t what Theon is putting forward, and he knows it.

* * *

* * *

**DAENERYS**

This is so not what she’d expected. The way Jon has kissed her, has touched her, gentle and maybe also a bit shy, has given her the impression that if they’d end up in bed, it would be rather slow and tender. But oh, she’d been so wrong.

Quite sure the grip on her hip will leave some light bruises, matching the scratches on his back from her nails. But she couldn’t help herself, still can’t. Even after a few minutes she’d been breathless and panting and so aroused, like she hasn’t been for a very long time. And Jon has it similar. The way he’s snapping his hips is ruthless and possessive and it leaves them both moaning and trembling. A trail of fire spreading over both their skins at all the places they touch. 

“ _Oh_ _god_ ,” she groans and it takes him not more then two hard thrusts before her orgasm washes over her. Pleasure spreads through her whole body, clouds her view and for a few seconds she’s left in a state of just pure bliss. 

Thus it’s only a blur as he pulls out, as he throws the condom away, as he hovers above her and brings himself over the edge. Still the sight of him, the way his muscles flex as he touches himselfs. _Fuck_ , it makes her want to do this all over again.

Maybe later, if they still have time.

After they’re lying there in a tangle of limbs and sheets, both grinning like fools. She feels Jon’s smirk on the damp skin above her sternum. And a small knot forms in her stomach at the thought that he’s leaving again in less than 24 hours.

Dany gives a soft sigh at that and Jon raises his eyes, “you’re good?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” she lies, “just a bit exhausted maybe.”

“Me too,” he breathes, and remains his position above her, even tightens his hands around her waist. As if he wants to make sure she stays. She can't blame him, not even a bit.

It’s one of these moments she wants to freeze to last forever. To which she wants to come back when she feels alone and tired. It's just a silly fantasy to think that this could be their future, they both live in two different worlds. But still she can't ignore that this is exactly what she wants right now.

“I can't believe I'm leaving tomorrow.” His words are mumbled against her skin, spoken as if he has read her thoughts. “Though this was truly a special vacation.”

“I hope in a good way?”

He chuckles, “of course in a good way.”

“Why?” Dany knows she’s fishing for compliments here, but he’s gone soon. She has to take what she gets.

Jon shifts so that he’s no longer on top of her but lying on his side, his head resting on his elbow so he can watch her face. Then he reaches for her hand and leads it to his mouth. “You know why,” he says and kisses her knuckles, “because of you.” 

His gaze is too intense, too open. So she pushes him back and straddles his hips. As she captures his lips it’s now him who sighs and she increases the pressure to hear it again. 

“You know what we should do?” Dany asks then a while later when it’s her head resting on his chest and his hand stroking her hair.

“Stay here forever?”

She snickers at his reply. This time it was not her intention, but she likes that his mind still revolves around the topic. “I bet Theon would object to that.” Forcing herself to sit up she places her hands on each side of his head. “No, I rather thought we should try the jacuzzi while we still have the chance.”

Jon’s eyes widen, “he owns a _jacuzzi_?” 

Daenerys nods with a smug grin, then gets up and pulls Jon with her.

His groan of pleasure when the first bubbles start to treat his sore muscles is another sound she wants to save for eternity. The look on his face, his features relaxed, the way he bites his bottom lips just so slightly. She can’t take her gaze off him even if she has to.

So to come across less creepy she presses her toes against his chest to make him open his eyes. “I think I might tell all my friends about this.”

He grins, “about what?”

“That I spent my christmas days with some famous rockstar, drinking beer in the hot tub of the head of my creative department.” She takes a sip and watches Jon roll his eyes. 

“I’m not some famous rockstar.”

“But you could be,” Dany smiles. “At least you will be in my story.”

Jon shakes his head, but fails at hiding that he’s a bit flattered. 

“Have you always wanted to be a musician?”

“No, not even thought about it actually.” He reaches for her foot and starts massaging the heel. “Don’t laugh okay?”

Dany does a cross over her heart and slumps down a bit more into the hot water. 

“I always wanted to be a detective.”

“Really?” She sounds surprised, though after a few thoughts she can imagine it quite well.

“Yeah, protect the weak and fight the evil, arresting the bad guys and all that.”

“Just the bad _guys_?” she teases him.

So Jon lets go of her foot and makes his way through the water until he takes his place between her legs. One hand on each of her thighs. “Maybe a few naughty girls if they're not that careful.”

Her eyebrows reach her hairline and she has to press her lips together so tightly to keep from laughing out loud, but in the end she fails miserably. Because his look makes it even worse, the sheer horror on his face at what he just said. So her bark of laughter echoes through the neighborhood, as Jon buries his face in her chest. 

“Oh _god_ , I can’t believe I just said _this_ ,” he mutters, pulls her even closer to hide himself. Quite certain he feels wave after wave of her giggles rolling through her body.

And there she knows, even when he’s leaving her, even when all this might seem like some wild dream in a few years, this moment, this feeling of pure happiness, it’s a memory that will stay with her for the rest of her life.

* * *

* * *

**THEON**

The last piece of clothing finds its way into his suitcase and Theon closes it, pulls the zip for good and then raises his head. In the window's reflection he spots Robb's face, still leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

He turns around with a false smirk, "it doesn't suit you … the moping I mean."

"Well," Robb starts, "it doesn't suit you either." 

Theon hasn't except for him to be the kind of man to grin and bear it but still he's not the least prepared for this obvious display of dismay. It unsettles him, it makes him doubt. But now is not the right moment for that.

Outside a car pulls off, then the driver presses the horn twice. And this is finally his sign that their time’s up. Hard to believe that it’d been only days and not years they had together. So down in front of the door he hesitates, knowing he can’t force another of such smiles on his face even if it’d make things easier for both of them.

“You can still change your mind.” Robb sounds as desperate as he feels himself. Instead of a reply Theon pulls him close and presses their mouths together.

It’s one of those kisses that they haven't shared yet. With pulling on skin and clutching on clothes. With lips resting against each other even when the actual kiss is long finished. Theon knows he will take this moment to his grave, the way Robb's hand won't leave his neck, the way he smells, the way he sighs. 

The fatal sound of the horn is what finally makes them separate.

Robb’s voice, so thin and tired, is what almost breaks his heart, “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Theon replies, kisses him one last time, short and gentle. Then he swallows hard and reaches for the doorknob.

He doesn't dare turn around, doesn't even look over his shoulder as the car slowly rolls away. Quite certain Robb’s watching him until he is no longer in sight. But Theon can't bear seeing it. He knows it would make him crack. 

Their last moments play out in his mind, the touches, the laughter, the fear. His work, his house, it's all a lame excuse. He can work from anywhere in the world and it's only a matter of time before he has to look for a new apartment now that Arianne is about to move in with them. No, it's the commitment that scares him, the commitment he would make if he stays.

_In your early thirties it stops being cool to be single, you know?_

And drowned fuck, he knows all too well. It's just that no one has ever been there worth really questioning that. 

No one but Robb.

He would give up everything for him, wouldn't he? Move halfway around the world, give up his bachelor life to which he's gotten so used to. And probably it wouldn't even bother him, maybe he won't even miss it. Because what he gets in return is so much better, isn't it? So much greater. A man who loves him, a place where he belongs.

Gods, he’s such an idiot.

“Stop the car!” Theon blares out.

“Excuse me?” The driver looks at him over the rearview mirror, “we actually have to hurry a bit if we are to be at the airport in 30 minutes.” 

“Fuck it!” He’s already reaching for the door even though the car hasn't come to a halt yet. “Just pull over.”

Theon dashes out the second he does, suitcase and belongings forgotten as he runs back the way to the house. His black hair blows around his face, the cold air burns on his cheeks, in his lungs, but he doesn't slow down. Instead, he speeds up even more, his legs moving all by themselves.

He can make him out in the distance, his red curls, hands buried deep in the pockets of his jacket. The head lowered. But when Theon calls his name, he stops, spins on his heels without a second of hesitation. “Robb!”

“Theon?” 

It’s muffled by the distance and yet the confusion is heard so clearly. It is written all over his face, magnified as they collide. Or rather, as Theon crashes into him.

They both groan in pain as they hit the frozen ground. Somehow Theon's elbow ended up between Robb's ribs and his lover’s knee dangerously close to his groin. He flinches, brows narrowed, when he leans back, “it was far more romantic in my head.”

“Well, next time you might give it a second thought.” Robb rubs his ribs as he sits up as well. Then realization strikes and his eyes widen, “what are you doing here?”

“I …” Theon takes a deep breath. “I … I changed my mind?”

The sight in front of him makes his heart do a flip, because has there ever been anything more beautiful than this man's smile? The way his blue eyes beam at him, the way his mouth spreads so wide, in danger of splitting his face in two.

Cold hands reach for his coat and pull him closer, but Robb's breathing is warm, his lips soft as they touch his. And Theon can't hold the laughter that stumbles out of his mouth. Robb has the same, he can feel it tickling against his skin.

And he knows, sitting there while the freezing snow slowly soaks his clothes, that he’s made the right decision. That he won't regret it. Not even once.

* * *

* * *

**JON**

Jon sighs, looking in on the house from the front door while he waits for Dany to pull up in her car on the drive. He can’t say he will miss the place all that much. No, it's all her that he will miss about this holiday. She’s the reason he’s reluctant to leave. Home will seem colder than it ever had before without her there. Not that one can really express the strength of his feelings this early on. Behind him he hears the opening of the car door and her feet hit the gravel.

“Ready to get home and kit your house out with the latest gadgets?” She teases but underneath the humour he can sense her unease. 

He forces a small laugh and turns to look at her. “Yes,” he says, eyes on her hair whipping in the wind and making sure to lay the sarcasm on thick. “And as luck would have it, Robb tells me Theon will be on hand to advise.” How he wishes he could do the same. It has his heart clench while he watches her tuck her hair back behind her ears.

Daenerys eyebrows raise. “He…” she clears her throat, tilts her head slightly. “He’s staying? Is there room enough for the two of you?” she jokes.

Pulling the door closed forever behind him, Jon wets his lip anxiously. “I’m not sure how long he’ll be staying, but thankfully I don’t think I have to worry about a houseguest. It sounds as though he’s moved elsewhere. Technically, he’s in the family home now.”

“Technically?” Dany asks, moving to pop open the boot of the car for him to stow his suitcase.

“They used to be the same house…” Jon explains. ”Well, they’re parts of the ‘hall’.”

“Ah.” She has a smirk on her face. “I had my suspicions.”

He smiles and lifts the bag into the luggage space. She has a good intuition with almost everything, it appears. Perhaps she knows just how it pains him to be leaving. “I suspect he’ll be slipping over to Robb’s each night. It’s just for show.” Their hands touch when they each reach to shut the hatch. It sends a spark through his body as though they haven’t had their hands on every part of each other over the past couple of days. As though he doesn’t hold the knowledge of where and how she likes to be touched. Kissed. The ways she looks at him tells him she has the same thoughts.

They should be moving to get into the car. Getting on the way if they are going to make the reservation at the restaurant on time for their last date. So, for now, he ignores his feelings and dire mood to walk round and settle into the passenger side seat.

As the large houses of the suburbs give way to apartment buildings and commercial outlets complete with their glass fronts and lobbies, he finds himself playing anxiously with a loose thread of his jeans.

“I imagine the kids will be very excited to have their uncle back,” she says, diffusing the tension somewhat. The bracelets jingle on her arm as she turns a corner onto a side street.

Jon looks back up and sets his gaze on her to speak. “They’ll be excited at the prospect of another present for certain.” It’s somewhere between a joke and the honest truth.

She chuckles and pulls over to park a little distance away from where they plan to eat. “Well, if they like them make sure to tell them I helped.”

Getting out of the car, he joins her out on the pavement. His words come out with little warning or thought, but he is sincere in them. “Why don’t you tell them yourself?”

“What?” Her brows furrow with confusion on her forehead, but her gorgeous eyes, he hopes, show a glimmer of anticipation. 

“Come back with me, please?” he asks, searching her face for the reaction. “Please, I can’t wait some arbitrary length of time before we try to see each other again for absolutely no reason. Spend New Years with me. I’m not someone who wants to play games. I want more, and I want to start the year right. I can’t wait to introduce you to those I love.”

“Jon I…” She shakes her head a little, glancing around like she's looking for some kind of sign or trying to gain a rational thought, so he reaches for and takes her hand into his own and gives it a reassuring squeeze. This is no joke or idle request. It’s not merely lip service.

Jon knows he’s going too fast but he’s passed any delicacy and can no longer contain himself. What does he have to lose? It’s now or nothing. “Let’s forget about the fancy lunch and galleries,” he pleads with her. “You could pack a quick bag and I’ll call the airline.” He knows she doesn’t live too far out on the drive towards the airport. This is definitely possible if they set their minds to it.

“I’m not sure how much I have to pack,” Daenerys nips her bottom lip. She’s tapping her key against her hand while she shows signs of her mind running through it. “I will need a new cold weather wardrobe especially,” she says eventually.

Jon’s chest tightens. He can barely believe what he’s hearing. “It’s that a yes?” 

“Yes,” she laughs heartily. Her smile is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and only broadens at the touch of his hands against her soft cheeks. They are both beaming once they break from the kiss and he sets his forehead against hers. He can hardly believe his luck. He'll have to take chances more often

**Author's Note:**

> Comments very much appreciated 💚  
>   
> Note [10.02.21.]: For this story we originally planned an epilogue (sixth chapter), but then life got busy and too much time has passed, so we decided to leave it as it is for now. They are all in good places, aren't they?   
> Please excuse the confusion or the long wait for something that is not published now after all!! Maybe a sequel will come someday, but for now this is it. Thank you very much for reading and your beautiful feedback. ❤️
> 
> If you want you can find us on Tumblr as [evax3](https://evax3.tumblr.com/) and [salty-wench](https://salty-wench.tumblr.com/)


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